


Cold As Ice

by Doylebaby



Category: Actor RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-05
Updated: 2012-07-05
Packaged: 2017-11-09 06:11:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 35,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/452228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doylebaby/pseuds/Doylebaby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Twenty-seven years ago,  a crime was committed and now someone is out for revenge as the people that were involved are being killed one by one.<br/>Detective Inspector Bana has the very difficult job of finding out who the killer is and at the same time trying to prevent him from claiming more victims.<br/>The fact that he is very attracted to one of the suspects only makes the case more complicated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cold As Ice

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Casestory Big!Bang 2012.
> 
> Thanks to moushkas for the lovely art and to liriel for the beta. :)

  


_13th January 1985_

 

The snow had been falling steadily all day and in the late afternoon, the clouds darkened, the weather worsening rapidly to a blizzard. 

Lord Edmund Monkfish, on his way home, told his driver to return to the village, he wasn’t going to make it back to the Hall tonight. 

The landlord of the Red Lion was quite thrilled about his Lordship’s unexpected visit and had a room prepared for him immediately, anxious to please.

“I shall need to make a phone call, Simmons,” his Lordship told the landlord, who then guided him to his own rooms at the back of the Inn, where his Lordship had all the privacy he needed to make the call. 

Lord Edmund returned within moments and informed his driver, “I only managed brief contact with Lyndon Hall before the connection was severed, the storm must be even worse down in the valley.” 

~ 

“What's keeping Edmund? He promised he would be here.” Lady Alice asked breathlessly as her maid wiped her forehead. She looked at the grey-haired woman in something close to despair. 

Lady Millicent sighed impatiently. “The snow storm has worsened, Alice. You concentrate on having this baby. I suspect Edmund is delayed and it’s unlikely he will get home in time for the birth. Which is just as well, men are useless in situations like this!”

Another contraction prevented Lady Alice from responding and as the midwife entered the room, the older woman turned away from the bed and stared out the window again.

“The servant girl has indeed gone into early labour.” The midwife announced, but neither Lady Alice nor her mother-in-law reacted to her words. With a shrug she returned her attention to Lady Alice.

After the contraction had passed, Lady Alice showed she had heard the words from the midwife. “Is Hannah all right?” she panted. 

“Alice, you shouldn't concern yourself with the well-being of a servant girl,” her mother-in-law admonished her.

The next contraction took all of Lady Alice's strength and she cried out in pain. 

*

“It’s a boy,” the midwife said and after a quick glance at Lady Millicent, wrapped the baby in a towel before handing him to the happy, but exhausted mother. When she wanted to open the towel to count his toes as any mother would, Lady Millicent's words stopped her. 

“You better take him,” she said to the nanny who had just entered the room. “Alice, hand over the boy so you can get cleaned up.”

“Devon,” Lady Alice whispered as she handed her son to the Nanny who quickly left the room with the little boy.

“What?” her mother-in-law asked with raised eyebrows.

“His name is Devon,” Lady Alice repeated and stared at the door through which her son had just been taken away. “He has dark hair too; I hope it's going to curl just like mine.”

Lady Millicent walked to the door. “God forbid that he should look like a gypsy too. I'll leave you to it,” she nodded at the midwife who flinched at the harsh words directed at Lady Alice.

The midwife cleaned up Lady Alice and then told the maid what she needed to do. “I'm sorry to leave you, milady, but I must see to Hannah now. I will be back later.”

Lady Alice nodded in understanding and leaned back in the pillows, keeping an eye on the door, hoping her son would be brought back to her soon.

~ 

“Milady, please!” The nanny held on to the tiny baby, who was making little sounds of distress at the loud voices around him.

“Be silent,” Lady Millicent warned her. She turned as the midwife came rushing down the corridor towards them. “It's disabled and looks like a gypsy,” Lady Millicent accused her. “It's no grandson of mine,” she said firmly.

“It's only club foot, they can do wonders with surgery these days!” the midwife exclaimed.

Lady Millicent froze, staring at the midwife with grim determination. “I. Want. It. Gone.” 

The two women looked at her in confusion. “Milady?” 

“That,” Lady Millicent pointed at the little boy in the nanny's arms. “Make it disappear.” She lowered her voice. “A pillow or in the bath... do I have to spell it out for you? Get rid of it!” she hissed, and after another cold, implacable look at the shocked women she strode quickly down the corridor. 

The two were completely bewildered and looked at the little boy squirming in the nanny's arms. 

The midwife shook her head and seemed to come to a decision. “Go get him cleaned up,” she instructed the nanny, then she hurried to catch up with Lady Millicent. 

When she returned, she looked flustered, but now needed to rush to see how the servant girl, Hannah was doing. 

 

Just as she entered the maid's room, the howling wind seemed to increase in volume and then suddenly all the lights went out. 

Muttering in annoyance, the midwife sent one of the women who had been with Hannah to fetch a torch or some candles, anything that would provide her with light at this crucial moment. 

The baby was, however, born in darkness and with some difficulty the midwife managed to cut the umbilical cord.

“Hannah, I'm going to see if there's any light somewhere in the house, so I can check your son out and then I will have him cleaned up immediately. I'm sorry you can't hold him, but I must ensure he is well and healthy first.”

She hurried from the room, to the bathroom where the nanny still sat with Devon covered in a towel, a couple of candles providing some illumination in the room. Just as the midwife began to examine Hannah's baby son, the lights went on again. With a relieved sigh, she saw that this baby didn't have any deformities – or at least nothing visible, then she turned to the nanny and held out the baby to her. “Here, wash him and dress him in the clothes Lady Alice provided for her son. This one is completely healthy.”

“B-but...” The nanny stammered, unable to form a proper sentence for shock at what the midwife seemed to be suggesting. “You can't do this,” she whispered.

“Are you prepared to kill this one then?” the midwife snapped lifting Devon out of the nanny’s lap. “Because I won't. I asked Lady Millicent to give him a chance, to see if the maid's baby was a healthy son. I was surprised when she agreed, but you'll have to hurry now and get back to Lady Alice with this babe before the old bat changes her mind. At least this way they both live.”

Defeated, the nanny complied and started to dress Hannah's unnamed baby, turning him into Devon, the son of Lord and Lady Monkfish. 

The midwife stared after the nanny as she finally left the bathroom to return to Lady Alice and then looked down at the little boy in her arms. Now that there was no more shouting, he was very quiet and blinked up at her with large brown eyes framed by incredibly long eyelashes. 

“You would have been quite the Casanova without that foot,” she murmured, caressing his cheek. “Now, let's take you to your new mummy... at least you'll be safe with her.”

She was quite convinced that if this little boy had been returned to his rightful mother, he would have met up with a fatal accident before too long. Lady Millicent was, without doubt a very ruthless woman.

Returning to Hannah's room, the midwife put on a suitably serious face, even though she was quite happy that she had managed to save this little boy's life.

“He's completely healthy, my dear,” she said as she placed the baby in his mother's expectant arms. “He has a minor deformity, a club foot, but it's not really serious. A simple operation and treatment can put that right.”

Hannah shook her head, tears filling her eyes. “How... Why? Why isn't he healthy?”

 

The midwife patted her shoulder. “He's perfectly healthy. A club foot is not hazardous to his health. You haven't told me what his name is.” She tried to distract the young girl. “I need to know for my records.”

“Orlando Romano Bloom, I will call him Orlando.” Hannah wiped her tears and looked at the little boy in her arms, her gaze full of love. 

The midwife nodded. “Orlando it is.”

 

Two days later Hannah and her baby son left Lyndon Hall. Speculation as to why she left was the talk of the day among the staff, but no one could have guessed the real reason.

 

~

 _Let judgement roll down as waters, and righteousness as a mighty stream._

 

_Twenty-seven years later._

 

Professor Rickman glanced impatiently over his shoulder at his assistant, who was standing staring at the house in awe. 

“I'd like to get inside sometime today, Bloom,” he barked at the young man and went up the steps, leaving the suitcases for Orlando to carry. 

“I'll have someone fetch your luggage, Sir,” the butler, who waited in the open door, told Professor Rickman.

The professor paused to look up at the huge dark-skinned man who had opened the door, then he waved his hand in dismissal. “My assistant can manage,” he said with a quick glance over his shoulder.

Orlando rolled his eyes; he would have to walk up and down the steps several times since he could only carry one suitcase at the time. 

The gravel on the drive as well as on the steps wasn’t making walking any easier, but he gritted his teeth and grabbed hold of the first case, carefully mounting the steps with it. 

The taxi driver took the last bag from the boot and put it down beside the others. “Now isn't he an arsehole,” he commented as he watched the young man come down the steps again, moving carefully.

Orlando shrugged. “Can't argue with that, but when he hired me, he asked if my disability would have any consequences that would affect my work and I said no.”

The taxi driver grabbed two bags and waited for Orlando to take the last one and they went up the steps together. “So what kind of work do you do? Are you his... what do they call them these days... manservant or something?”

Orlando giggled. “Not sure if you still call them that, but no that's not what I am. I'm a genealogical researcher and my boss is a Professor in Genealogy.”

The taxi driver put the bags down at the entrance of Lyndon Hall. “Isn't that a...” he lowered his voice. “A woman's doctor?” 

This time Orlando only managed to stifle his laughter with great effort at seeing the driver's confused face, and he quickly pulled himself together. It was a mistake that was made quite often when he mentioned his occupation.

“I'm sorry, but you mean a gynaecologist. A _genealogist_ is someone who researches someone's family tree.” And when the man's face remained blank, he clarified. “Your ancestors? We research who you're a descendant of.” 

The man nodded politely, clearly still not understanding, and then his face cleared. “Oh I know! You can find out if I'm family of Henry the Eighth?”

Orlando grinned at the man's choice of relatives. “Yep, that's more or less what it means.”

The driver looked up at the house and hummed. “Well good luck with that. Lady Millicent probably fancies herself a descendant from Queen Victoria. Just a friendly warning though, mate. Lady Millicent? Stay as far from her as you can, she can't stand imperfect people.” He clapped Orlando on the shoulder and then hurried down the steps and back to his taxi. 

Orlando looked after him, this time he was the one with a bemused look on his face. Then he glanced down at his right leg, it was shorter and his foot was smaller than his left leg and foot. There was also pain every day. 

A young new surgeon, determined to 'solve' the problem, had blundered his way through surgery and instead of correcting the slight deformity, he'd made things worse. But Orlando coped. Yes, he needed a crutch and yes, he only had one hand to spare because of that, but he didn't see that as a problem. 

Well, if Lady Millicent – who ever she was - saw it as a problem, than that was really _her_ problem, not his.

He turned to take the bags and suitcases inside, but was pleasantly surprised to see they had already been taken indoors by a servant. 

“It's certainly nice to have servants,” Orlando murmured and went inside himself, finding his boss waiting at the bottom of the stairs, just as the butler walked away.

“You took your time,” Professor Rickman told him. “It's a good thing Lord Monkfish has been delayed by a phone call.”

Orlando shrugged, if the professor was so concerned about him being there on time, he should have helped him with their luggage. 

Lord Monkfish came down the stairs with a broad smile of greeting on his face. “Professor, how good of you to come and stay with us. I understand it's quite an unusual request, but I really do want to be involved in the research!” 

He shook the professor's hand enthusiastically and Orlando turned his head away to hide the smile at his boss's look of distaste. Alan Rickman hated to be touched and avoided it as much as possible. 

Orlando noticed an elderly woman coming into the hall from a side door. She froze as soon as she spotted them.

“And who have we here?” Lord Monkfish addressed Orlando, who quickly turned his attention back to him. His Lordship held out his hand and Orlando reached for it, limping closer. 

“My name is Orlando Bloom, sir, I'm Professor Rickman's assistant.”

There was a gasp behind them, but Orlando didn't want to appear impolite and turn around, although he did wonder what was going on.

Lord Monkfish shook his hand, his brown eyes staring intently at Orlando. “You seem familiar, have we met before?”

Orlando slowly shook his head. “I don't think so, milord.”

Professor Rickman coughed and Lord Monkfish turned back to him and then addressed the butler who had magically reappeared.

“Geoffrey will show you to your rooms, gentlemen and your cases will be brought up for you.” He looked at Orlando. “I'm afraid all our guest rooms are upstairs.”

Orlando was pleasantly surprised at his Lordship’s consideration for him. “Thank you, milord, it's no problem.” He smiled at the man who returned it and then left them to the butler. 

The butler coughed discreetly as he approached Orlando. “Your room is in the left corridor, the fourth again on the left, sir. I will go ahead with the professor and will meet you there.”

Orlando nodded at him in thanks. At least he would be able to get upstairs at his own pace. 

He started up the stairs when a haughty voice from the top of the stairs interrupted his thoughts. 

“The servant’s quarters are downstairs; now get out of my sight!” 

Surprised, Orlando looked up, holding onto the bannister to keep his balance. A thin, grey-haired woman glared at him. 

“I am sorry, but I was told my room was at the top of the stairs on the left,” he answered politely and continued his slow ascent. 

“The impudence!” the woman snapped in annoyance and looked around until she spotted someone in the corridor. “Waverley, get over here at once!” She gestured imperiously at the butler. 

Orlando, in the meantime, wondered if this was Lady Millicent. If she was... well he was glad the taxi driver had given him a warning about her. 

Upstairs the butler hurried toward Lady Millicent. “Yes, milady?” he asked.

“That...” She pointed at Orlando. “Remove it at once. I have told it, the servant quarters are downstairs.”

The butler cleared his throat and looked at Orlando in embarrassment. “He isn’t a servant, milady. This is Professor Rickman's assistant, Mr Bloom is a researcher.”

Orlando had now reached the top of the stairs and halted a step below the old woman. “And for your information, _milady_ ,” he said with great emphasis on her title. “I'm a human being, not an animal of some kind. Besides that, did no one ever tell you it's very impolite to point!” He was fuming and he didn't care if he was thrown out on his ear right now; no one had the right to speak about another person like that. 

There was a quickly muffled snorting sound from the butler and Lady Millicent stood gaping at the young man with his long dark curls, who looked up at her with fury in his eyes. 

“Now if you'll excuse me,” Orlando climbed the last step. “I would like to find my room.”

“This way, sir.” The butler indicated, pointing Orlando in the right direction. “Excuse me, Lady Millicent.” He bowed to the older woman who still seemed in shock and then quickly showed Orlando to his room.

“Here we are, sir.” The butler opened the door for Orlando and stepped aside. “Professor Rickman has the first room in the right hand corridor.”

“Thanks.” Orlando said, tiredly lowering himself onto one of the chairs. He was glad he was able to sit down for a bit. 

“Sir?” Orlando looked up at the butler. “Are you alright?” 

Orlando nodded. “Yes, thank you. What should I call you, Mr Waverley or... Geoffrey? I'm not really used to staying somewhere with a butler,” he grinned a little embarrassed.

“That's quite alright, sir, you may call me Geoffrey. Are you feeling all right?” The butler looked a little concerned. 

Orlando smiled in thanks. “Yes, I am, thank you. Too many stairs, I’m afraid. I just need to sit for a moment.”

“Is there anything you need? Coffee, tea, sandwiches?” 

“Some tea would be great, Geoffrey, thank you. Did Professor Rickman give any indication that he needed me?” 

Geoffrey shook his head. “He was setting up his laptop and other equipment, sir, I can go and ask?” 

“No, that's okay. I'll go and see him in minute. And then I'll have some unpacking to do myself... that is, if I'm not thrown out shortly.”

The butler chuckled. “May I say, sir, that I wish all of the staff could have heard you. Every one of us have been spoken to like that by Lady Millicent, at one time or another. His Lordship is not at all like his mother and should he ask me, I will tell him exactly what she said. I don't think you will have to worry about being asked to leave.”

Orlando sighed. “Yeah, well, my mouth runs faster than my brain sometimes, Geoffrey, but I couldn't let this pass.”

“Quite right, sir,” Geoffrey nodded, but a bright smile lit his face. “Now I will get you your tea, sir and I'll send one of the maids to unpack for you.” 

“Thanks, that would be nice, Geoffrey and my name is Orlando. No need to be formal.”

The butler bowed and left the room, closing the door behind him. 

Orlando decided he should see whether Professor Rickman needed him first before he freshened up. 

He opened the door and almost bumped into the elderly woman he thought he had seen downstairs. “Hello,” he said politely and nodded at her.

Once again the woman seemed frozen on the spot, then she backed away from him, her face as pale as if she'd seen a ghost. “No, no, no, no...” She turned and hurried away in the opposite direction. 

Orlando frowned. It almost seemed as if the woman was afraid of him, how very odd. With a sigh he walked to Professor Rickman's room and knocked on the door. 

“Come!” 

Opening the door, Orlando immediately noticed his boss was in a bad mood. 

“Ah, Bloom, there you are. It’s about time you got here. It would appear there's no Wifi here. How they can possibly expect me to carry out my research with no internet connection is quite beyond me. I don’t even have access to my own library without a connection. _If_ I can work in these barbaric conditions, the work will be delayed considerably.”

“I understand, sir. Do you want me to arrange to have a connection point made available to us? I'm sure they have internet. Didn't Lord Monkfish contact you by email at first?”

The professor nodded approvingly. “Yes, that is correct. You have paid attention. Go see what you can arrange for me.” He turned back to his screen, indicating the conversation had ended. 

Orlando shrugged and turned to leave the room, the man always acted as if he was a five year old. He glanced out the window and noticed it had started to snow quite heavily. 

Moving to the window to see how bad the snow was, Orlando saw a car pull up and a man about his own age, with short brown hair, getting out of the car. The man quickly walked around to open the door on the other side for a young woman, her long dark hair held together in a pony tail, who jumped out and into his arms, kissing him enthusiastically. 

“Well someone is in a happy mood,” Orlando muttered and he left the room in search for Geoffrey, who would undoubtedly know someone able to get the internet connection sorted for them.

 

~ 

Orlando rubbed his eyes, he'd been staring at the screen for such a long time and still Professor Rickman didn't seem inclined to stop working any time soon.

After Lord Edmund's secretary had arranged an internet connection for them on that first day, they had been doing research almost non-stop for two weeks now.

The secretary had suggested they set up their things in the library, that way they could leave everything where it was and get back to it the next day, because beside the computer, it involved going over a lot of papers, books and lists as well.

Lord Edmund's family tree went back many centuries and it would take time to find all the information they needed.

Orlando pushed his chair back and grabbed his crutch. He desperately needed to stretch his legs, make the muscles work to keep them from stiffening up completely. He wished he could go outside for a bit, but it had been snowing for days on end and temperatures had dropped considerably. 

Weather stations had advised people not to go outdoors if it wasn't absolutely necessary.

Instead he walked around in the library and ended up on the opposite side of the room where a couple of painted family portraits were hanging. He recognized Lady Millicent with what was most likely her husband and a young Lord Edmund. He moved on to the next painting, which was of Lord Edmund and his wife with their son Devon at the age of about five years old.

They hadn't officially met Lord Edmund's son, Devon, and his brand new wife, Isabel yet. The couple had returned from their honeymoon on the day he and Professor Rickman had arrived and kept mostly to themselves. 

Orlando's gaze focused on Lady Alice. She looked so sad and for some reason he wanted to reach out and comfort her. 

“Softy,” he muttered to himself. 

Only then did he realize someone had joined him. Lord Edmund stood beside him and the expression on his face told Orlando that he had loved his wife very much.

“She had hair as dark as yours and with just as many curls,” the man told him, his eyes still on the painting. “She always wondered why Devon's hair was straight and I'm sure she was just a little disappointed it didn't curl at all.”

Orlando nodded. “My mother always wondered where my curls came from, neither she, nor apparently my father, had curls, nor was their hair as dark as mine.”

His Lordship nodded. “It's strange how some things are inherited and others are not. My mother,” Lord Edmund sighed. “She used to say that at least Devon didn't look like a gypsy. I first noticed Alice because of her beautiful dark curls,” he admitted.

Orlando turned towards him and chuckled. “My mother used to call me her little 'gypsy boy' because of my curls. She always said only the golden earrings were missing. Especially when I wanted to let my hair grow longer.”

Lord Edmund smiled. “I can see why she said it; you do have a mass of curls. She said it out of love I should think, though.”

Orlando nodded. “Oh yes, I believe she was quite proud of my curls,” his eyes softened at the thought of his mother.

“Unfortunately my mother used to mention it in an unpleasant way. Alice and my mother never got along, I’m afraid. My mother can be very... intimidating and Alice was a little frightened of her.”

“Is that the reason...” Orlando pressed his lips together and shook his head. “I'm sorry, milord, I have no right to speak.” He just couldn't ask such an impertinent question.

Lord Edmund made an encouraging motion with his hand. “You may ask me anything, Orlando, I'm not easily offended.”

Orlando stepped closer to the painting and his hand ghosted over Lady Alice's face. “Is that why she seems so sad?”

“You are very perceptive,” Lord Edmund remarked. “Yes, I think it had something to do with it, although after Devon was born, Alice was never the same again and I never could find out why.” Then, maybe realizing he had said too much, he nodded to Orlando and left the room. 

Orlando stood a moment longer in front of the portrait, then he returned to his work, wondering if Professor Rickman had noticed his conversation with Lord Monkfish. But as usual, his boss was completely consumed by his work. 

Orlando settled himself behind his laptop again and checked the last notes he'd made. At least they had made some progress today.

~ 

“When did she leave?” Lord Edmund's secretary asked the butler, as Orlando slowly came down the stairs. 

Geoffrey nodded at him before answering the secretary. “We don't really know, John. She was behaving quite irrationally for the last couple of weeks and became more and more unstable. Cook believes Nanny mentioned her sister; she has been wanting to live with her for some time. Maybe that is where she went, but she didn’t say goodbye to anyone.”

John nodded. “I'll inform His Lordship. He was worried about her sudden absence.”

Orlando had wondered if the nanny had been avoiding him, since he hadn't seen her after their strange encounter outside his room. Not knowing who she was and why she had run off, he had asked Geoffrey about her and the butler had explained that she was the nanny. Nanny was just a little odd, Geoffrey had explained, and he shouldn't take her behaviour personally. 

Geoffrey waited until Orlando had reached the bottom of the stairs and asked if there was anything he needed, but Orlando shook his head. “Thank you, Geoffrey, I'm fine. I'm determined to go for a walk outside today. I haven't seen much of the estate and I'm in need of some fresh air.”

“Sounds like an excellent idea, sir... Orlando,” Geoffrey cocked his head and smiled. Apparently not used to calling someone by their first name if they weren’t a servant. “The lads have cleared the path to the lake of most of the snow. Master Devon's wife, Lady Isabel was wondering if the ice was strong enough to skate on.”

Orlando grinned and lifted his crutch a little. “No skating for me I'm afraid, but a clear path will make walking a bit easier.” He bundled himself up in his winter jacket and scarf.

Geoffrey opened the door for him. “Have a nice walk, Orlando.” 

~

Outside Orlando took a deep breath, inhaling the crisp winter air. It was a little slippery so he would have to watch his step, but the sunshine made up for any inconvenience he'd suffer. 

He set off in the direction of the lake, feeling quite awed by the quietness of the world around him. White and silent, all sound was muted and Orlando, being used to the noise of the city, decided that he liked it. 

He reached the bridge across the smallest part of the lake and looked down at the ice. Here, very close to the bridge there was only a thin layer of ice, barely an inch or so thick. He didn't think it was safe to skate on it, but maybe the ice was better further out on the lake.

Resting his elbows on the wooden handrail, Orlando looked out over the lake and imagined what it would look like without the snow. This was such a beautiful place, he could get used to living here. Not even Lyndon Hall could be seen from where he stood, the trees obscuring it from view.

Then his eyes drifted back to the water and he thought he saw something odd below the ice. He leaned over the railing to take a closer look.

It took a while before he realized what it was he was looking at, but then his eyes widened and he pushed away from the railing, stumbled backwards, he slipped on an icy patch, falling and landing on his backside. 

He desperately clawed at the snow to get up, using his crutch to get some purchase and after a few attempts he finally managed to stand again. 

Orlando returned to the railing on shaky legs. He needed to be sure that what he had seen wasn't a figment of his imagination. One look told him that it wasn't a trick of the weeds beneath the ice; it was gruesome and very real.

He quickly looked away from the face staring up at him from beneath the ice, eyes wide open in terror. 

 

Moving as quickly as his leg would allow, Orlando hurried back to the house, not for the first time he cursed his inability to run. He staggered when his leg protested, but didn't stop. Later he would ask himself why, because it was far too late anyway.

When he reached the Hall he pounded on the front door, incessantly shouting for someone to open up and when the door was opened he fell forward and only Geoffrey's quick reaction prevented him from doing a face plant.

“Orlando?” Geoffrey held him upright until Orlando had found his feet. “What's wrong, why are you shouting and trying to hammer the door down?”

Orlando tried to tell Geoffrey and suck in deep breaths at the same time, several other servants, including John Smith, Lord Monkfish's secretary, also came to find out what all the racket was about.

Orlando pointed outside. “There's a… body...” he panted and then his leg couldn't hold him up any longer and he slid to the floor. “There's a body… in the lake... under the ice... close to the bridge.”

The gathered crowd gasped and stared at Orlando, all of them demanding an explanation at once. But Orlando was totally out of breath, in a lot of pain, and completely unable to answer their questions.

“Let's get him off the floor,” Geoffrey said and together with John, he hauled Orlando up and settled him on one of the hall benches. 

The noise had also attracted the attention of Lord Monkfish and he and his son appeared in the hallway. 

“What's going on, Geoffrey?” Lord Edmund asked sternly. 

“Orlando here claims he found a body, milord, in the lake... under the ice.” Geoffrey explained. 

Lord Edmund took charge of the situation immediately. “John, take one of the men and check it out.” He turned to Orlando who was sitting with his face in his hands, shaking like a leaf. “I'm sorry, Orlando, but before we call the police, I need to be sure that it really is a body you found.”

Orlando nodded his understanding. He was sure, he was also very sure he would never be able to erase the ghastly image from his mind. 

Someone was tugging at him and when he looked up, he realized Geoffrey was trying to remove his coat. 

“Do you believe it?” Devon asked his father and Orlando noticed the curious glances the young man threw at him.

His father lifted his hands. “I don't know, Devon, of course I hope it was something else... a large fish maybe.”

It didn't take long for John and the gardener to return and by the look on their pale faces there was no doubt that Orlando had really seen a body.

John stepped closer to Lord Edmund, whispering something to him that he obviously didn't want the rest of the staff to hear.

“I will inform the police immediately,” Lord Edmund replied. “Geoffrey, please take care of Orlando. If he requires a doctor make sure you call Doctor Hammond to come over from the village.”

“Aye, sir,” Geoffrey nodded and then he helped Orlando up and supported him up the stairs. 

“Do you need a doctor?” he asked Orlando. 

Orlando shook his head. “No thanks, Geoffrey. I just need my painkillers and some time to... recover I suppose.”

 

~

DI Eric Bana folded his tall body into the small car with a groan. His DS Dominic Monaghan watched with a grin as he tried to get settled. 

“What happened to the Jag?” Bana grumbled. 

Monaghan started the car and pulled out of the parking spot in front of the police station. “Flat tyre. It should be fixed by the time we get back.”

With a long suffering sigh, Eric again tried to get comfortable, but without much luck. 

“So what's the story?” Dom asked him, having been pulled from another case by Eric.

“A body in the lake over at Lyndon Hall. Lord Monkfish called it in himself. He seemed to know who the victim is, but wanted to tell me that in person.”

Dom scowled. “The nobility exercising their powers?” 

Eric shook his head. “No, I don't think so. He hadn't seen the body himself, said he was going on the statement of others.”

Dom rolled his eyes. “So we could be in for some surprises?” 

Shifting uncomfortably in his seat, Eric shrugged. “We'll see. Let's keep an open mind, okay?” 

“Yeah, sure.” Dom pulled up in front of the mansion. “Don't hit your head when you get out.” 

Eric shot him a dark look before getting out of the car, and almost _did_ bash his head. Dominic wisely hid his grin. Eric showed his badge to the officer in charge of keeping the grounds clear. “The doctor is at the lake already, sir,” he told Eric politely, pointing in the direction where Eric and Dom could see a lot of activity going on. 

Eric nodded at the officer in thanks and quickly headed towards the lake. 

“Someone cleaned the path,” Dom observed. “Before or after the discovery, I wonder?”

Eric pointed a finger at Dom. “Make sure you find out,” he said, as they reached the scene of the crime. “Doctor Boyd?” he called out. 

Doctor Boyd, came from beneath the bridge and joined Eric, who was standing on the bridge, staring down at the icy grave. 

“What do we have, Doctor?” he asked the slender Scots man. 

Doctor Boyd sighed and his usually smiling face was very serious. “An elderly woman beneath the ice. It's not as thick as it is further out on the lake, but it will be a while before we have her out of there. Can't tell yet how she died, not until she's out of the water.”

Eric nodded. “Thanks, Doc. Any idea how long she’s been in there?”

Doctor Boyd shook his head. “Hard to tell, before it got cold enough to freeze the lake, so at least a week or two. If someone can tell us when they last saw her that would definitely help.”

“Thanks, Doc,” Eric said. “That's one of the questions I’ll be wanting an answer to.”  
He motioned at his DS and they went back to the house.

“Do you think she fell in?” Dominic asked him.

Eric shrugged. “That's also a possibility; we have to keep all options open until we get the cause of death.”

 

At the Hall they were guided to Lord Monkfish's study by the butler. 

“Gentlemen.” Lord Edmund shook their hands.

“I'm Detective Inspector Bana and this is Detective Sergeant Monaghan, Lord Monkfish. Can you tell us who the victim is?” 

Lord Edmund indicated the chairs in front of his desk. “Please take a seat. My secretary, John said he was quite certain it is our nanny. Her name is Rose Pendleton, but we always referred to her as Nanny. She raised my son, Devon.”

Eric leaned forward in his chair. “Was your secretary the one who found the body?” 

Lord Edmund shook his head. “No, one of my guests, Mr Orlando Bloom, was out for a walk this morning and he apparently made the horrific find.”

“Did he know the nanny?” Eric pressed.

“I'm not really sure. He and his boss, Professor Rickman, have been here for almost three weeks, I don't know if they ever ran into her before she went missing.”

Dominic who had been making notes, looked up from his notebook. “Your nanny went missing but you didn't report it?” he asked incredulously. 

Lord Edmund shrugged uncomfortably. “She has been behaving strangely for quite a while, especially the last couple of days before she went missing. Confused, muttering nonsense... According to some of the staff she mentioned her sister quite a few times and how she was going to move in with her. We all assumed that she had left to do just that.” He spread his hands helplessly.

“You never checked with the sister?” Eric asked, astonished by the casual, almost indifferent attitude. 

“No, I'm sorry to say that it never occurred to me that she _hadn't_ gone there. Even if I had, it would have been difficult having no forwarding address or even a name of the sister.”

Eric stood. “Thank you, milord, that will be all for now. We’d like to speak to the person who found the body now though and once we know more, there is a chance we may have to come back.”

Lord Edmund looked up in alarm. “What are you saying?”

“At this moment, the cause of her death is unknown...” Eric clarified.

Lord Edmund stood abruptly from his chair. “But this is an accident surely?”

“Nothing can be determined until the doctor has examined the body, milord.” Eric said as politely as possible. “Is there someone who can take us to Mr Bloom?”

With a sigh Lord Edmund sat down again. “Of course, I understand. Geoffrey is waiting outside; he will take you to see Mr Bloom.”

With a nod both men left the room. 

The butler was indeed waiting for them and as soon as they appeared he stepped forward. “This way please, gentlemen, Mr Bloom is in the library.”

“An avid reader is he?” Dominic asked a little mockingly.

The butler glanced over with a disapproving look on his face. “As to that, I couldn’t say, sir. Mr Bloom is currently at work.”

They arrived at the library and a stern voice could be heard even through the closed door.

“...have to attract so much attention to yourself?” 

The answer was indistinct and Eric decided not to wait until the butler had announced them, but opened the door and barged into the library. 

“What for the devil do you want?” A man, all dressed in black with shoulder length black hair and equally dark eyes, spat at them. He glared at Eric and then looked over his shoulder in annoyance at the butler, who shrugged in apology. 

Not in the least intimidated, Eric pulled his ID from his pocket. “I'm Detective Inspector Bana, this is Detective Sergeant Monaghan, are you Mr Bloom?”

The man sniffed disdainfully and didn't reply, deliberately turning his back on them in dismissal.

“ _I_ am Orlando Bloom. How may I help you, Inspector?” The soft voice from the other side of the room surprised Eric and he slowly turned to face the speaker. 

Dominic could hear his sharp intake of breath and looked over to see what it was that made his boss go quiet. The answer wasn't too difficult and he rolled his eyes. Even Dom couldn't deny that Bloom was an attractive man with his long, dark curls, olive-toned skin, and large brown eyes. Just the sort of man the Inspector liked.

Dom discreetly nudged Eric in the back and stepped around him, approaching the young man sitting behind a laptop with a number of open books spread on the table in front of him and a notebook full of scribbled notes sitting beside the laptop.

“Good morning, Mr Bloom, Lord Monkfish told us it was you who found the body in the lake?”

Eric shook himself and joined his DS, waiting for the answer. 

“Yes. That is correct. I went out for a walk this morning and because Geoffrey, the butler, told me the path to the lake had been cleared from snow I decided to take a walk there.”

“Too much bother to plough through the snow?” Dom asked a little bluntly. 

“Indeed,” Orlando answered noncommittally. 

Then Dom noticed the crutch leaning against the table beside the man's arm and realized his judging had been a little too quick. “Sorry,” he muttered.

With an annoyed look at his DS, Eric quickly stepped in. “What time was this, Mr Bloom?” He tried to smile, but didn't think he succeeded very well, because the expression on Mr Bloom's face didn't change. 

“I think it must have been somewhere between ten and ten-thirty as I’d already been working for some time and wanted a break and some fresh air.” He cocked his head waiting for Eric's next question. 

“Did you recognize the victim?” It was Dom who asked it. 

Orlando's eyes slid to the man, but then returned his gaze to Eric. “No, I didn’t. It was such a horrific sight that it took me several moments to work out what I was looking at. Once I realized it was a body, I hurried back to the house to tell someone as quickly as I could.”

“Did you know the nanny, Rose Pendleton?” was Eric's next question. 

Orlando shook his head. “We were never introduced. I bumped into her on my first day when I left my room, but I didn't know who she was at the time. After that I've only seen her in the distance a couple of times. 

“Did-” Dom started but Orlando interrupted him. 

“Come to think of it,” he started and frowned. “I think she was the person that came into the hallway when we first arrived,” he nodded with his head at Professor Rickman. “She reacted a little strangely when she saw me... or us. At least I think she did.”

Eric frowned at these words. “What do you mean?”

Orlando shrugged. “I don't know exactly. She came into the hall from a side door while we were waiting for His Lordship. She froze at seeing us, then Lord Monkfish appeared and when I looked again, she was gone.”

“But you don't know whether it had to do with _you_ or the Professor?” Eric pressed.

Orlando shook his head. “I thought it was strange, but maybe it was normal behaviour for her...”

“All right, well thank you for your time, Mr Bloom. We may want to speak to you again in the next couple of days.” Eric told him. 

“We'll be here for a while longer,” Orlando informed them.

Dominic looked at the laptop screen and the books lying open on the table. “What exactly is it that you do?” he asked curiously.

The answer came from behind them. “I am tracing Lord Monkfish's lineage and history to establish his family tree. Mr Bloom is my assistant. Now gentlemen, if you are finished, he has work to do.” 

Orlando sighed and looked at Eric in question. “Inspector Bana? Do you know what happened to her?” 

Eric shook his head. “We won't know anything until the doctor has finished his examination. Why do you ask?”

“The look of terror in her eyes, as if...” Orlando shuddered. “I don't think I will ever forget that look.” 

Dominic slyly leant closer. “As if... Mr Bloom. What were you going to say?”

Orlando shrugged and moved his chair so he faced the screen of his laptop again. “As if she knew she was going to die.”

“I understand. Thank you, Mr Bloom,” Eric said and then nodded at Professor Rickman and he and Dominic left. 

 

The butler was still waiting for them outside and they walked down to the front door, then Eric stopped and turned to the butler. 

“His Lordship mentioned that Rose Pendleton behaved oddly in the days before she disappeared. She was confused and babbled most of the time. As butler you must have noticed this. Can you tell me what caused it? What was she talking about?” 

Geoffrey grimaced and shook his head. “She has _always_ behaved a little odd, as long as I've known her – which is about fifteen years. It always seemed as if she carried a burden of some sort. Felt guilty over something was the impression I got. She was very religious and prayed a lot, always asking for forgiveness.” He gestured at his head. “The last couple of days her state of mind became worse. She muttered continuously, about a baby. One moment she said a baby was gone, the next moment she would tell us he was back.”

“The baby was definitely a 'he'?” Eric asked. “Are you certain that's what she said?”

The butler nodded. “Yes, quite often she just babbled about a baby, but lately it was very definitely 'he'. I didn't pay it any mind though. Since Master Devon met his wife, Lady Isabel, he was away quite often. They've also been on their honeymoon for the past month, so I assumed that was what she was talking about.” 

“Makes sense,” Dominic muttered as he wrote it down. 

Eric wasn't satisfied though. “Could it have anything to do with the arrival of Professor Rickman and Mr Bloom?” 

“I'm not sure, Inspector, I've not given it any thought to be honest. She did get worse around that time and according to Lily, the maid, she returned to the kitchen very upset about something, but whether that was on the day the two gentlemen arrived, I really couldn't say. Maybe Lily can remember when it was and what it was that had upset her so much.”

“We need to speak to Lily.” Eric told Dominic after thanking the butler. 

Then Dominic's mobile rang and he quickly answered it, looking at his boss while he listened to the person who’d called. “The doctor wants us, sir.” 

Eric nodded, then addressed the butler again. “Where is Ms Pendleton's room?” 

Geoffrey pointed at a corridor leading to the back of the house. “This way, Inspector.”

“Dom? You go with him, lock her room and take the key. I'm going to see what the doctor wants.” He nodded at the butler and immediately left to find Doctor Boyd. 

None of them noticed the person upstairs, who had been listening intently to the conversation and now quickly disappeared down a corridor. 

~

Eric found Doctor Boyd directing the men carrying the body of Rose Pendleton up the bank and putting her on a stretcher.

“You have something for me, Doctor?” Eric asked.

“Hm? Oh yes,” Doctor Boyd motioned for Eric to come closer and pointed at the body's neck. “Look, there are ligature marks around her throat. Without further examination I can't tell if strangulation was the cause of death or whether she drowned, though. Come to my lab in the morning, I'm bound to know more by then.”

Eric nodded in thanks. “We can no longer treat this as an accident.” 

When Dominic joined him, Eric quickly brought him up to date on the latest developments. “Did you secure the key to the nanny's room?” he asked. At Dom’s nod, he continued, “Tomorrow we’ll have to search her room for clues and speak to the maid Lily.

* 

Orlando couldn't really concentrate on his work. 

His talk with the police had brought the whole thing home. It was real, he had found a body. What could have happened to the woman? Did she fall into the lake? He didn't even want to consider another option.

Then there was that police inspector Bana... Orlando had noticed the man's interest, but had stomped hard on his own attraction towards him. Now was not a good time to get involved with any one, least of all a police inspector.

 

“Finished, Bloom?” Professor Rickman had apparently noticed he was just staring off into space. 

Orlando looked contrite. “Not really, I'm sorry, Professor, it's a little hard for me to concentrate today.”

To his surprise Professor Rickman nodded. “Understandable. It's almost four, take the rest of the afternoon off.”

“Thank you, sir,” Orlando replied, closing his laptop and putting bookmarks in the books he was using. 

“Bright and early tomorrow though, Bloom. This is taking far longer than I anticipated and as much as I appreciate His Lordship's support, this unpleasant business is very distracting.”

Orlando could only agree and nodded silently. “I'll be here early tomorrow morning, sir.” 

He left the library and looked around the hallway. He wished he could go out for a much needed breath of fresh air, but his last venture was still very vivid in his mind making him reluctant to chance it happening again. 

He sighed, realizing he actually felt a little hungry. He had skipped lunch earlier in the day, not feeling up to eating anything, but now his stomach was complaining. Maybe he should go down to the kitchen to see if Cook had some leftovers he could take up to his room.

It wasn't the first time he'd done that; Professor Rickman wasn't one to acknowledge lunch or dinner time and he didn't want to be disturbed by servants bringing food to them. So Orlando would occasionally excuse himself and slip away to the kitchen for some much needed nourishment. 

Orlando slowly headed for the kitchen. The manner in which he had tried to hurry back from the lake that morning had severely abused his muscles and walking was very painful. He didn't look forward to his climb up the stairs; that was going to be a challenge. 

He walked down the long corridor towards the side of the house where the kitchen and the servant's quarters were situated. 

Orlando sighed, the corridor seemed longer than before, but that was probably because his leg was giving him a lot of grief. He turned the last corner and tripped over something, his poor balance sending him crashing to his knees. 

“Please... help...”

Shocked Orlando looked at the girl sitting there slumped against the wall, a bloodied hand stretched out to him and without thinking he grabbed her hand. 

“What happened?” he asked her, looking around to see if there was somebody who could help. His eyes widened with horror as he noticed a growing pool of blood on the left side of the girl, where it dripped down from her head.

“Help!” Orlando cried out. “Someone help!” 

“Gypsy... the gypsy has returned... s-she said... he had returned-” she gasped and then she closed her eyes.

Desperately, Orlando patted her cheek. “Come on, don't close your eyes, please, stay awake!”

The sound of running footsteps came closer and then abruptly stopped. “W-what's going on, what happened?” Geoffrey dropped to his knees beside Orlando, while Cook stood wringing her hands.

Orlando shook his head in confusion. “I don't know. I came around the corner and tripped – over her legs, I think.”

Geoffrey reached for the girl's wrist. 

“Is she... okay?” Orlando asked, still clutching her hand. 

Geoffrey looked at Cook first and then at Orlando and shook his head. Cook started to cry and covered her face with her apron.

“We’ll have to call the police,” Geoffrey said and stood. “I will warn His Lordship. Orlando, can you stay with-”

“Geoffrey? What's going on now?” John, Lord Edmund's secretary appeared out of breath, but when he noticed the girl and the blood, he turned ghastly white. “Lily?”

“I’m sorry, John.” Geoffrey shook his head, and then hurried away to ring for the police. Orlando tried to get to his feet, but his leg refused to cooperate. 

“What did you do to her?” 

Orlando looked up in confusion at John. “I'm sorry, I don't understand, what do you mean?”

You've got blood all over you. What did you do to her!” John roared, grabbing Orlando and hauling him to his feet.

“John, let him go.” Devon Monkfish had appeared and spoke gently to his father's secretary. 

John blinked and then slowly released Orlando, who sagged against the wall. Devon reached out to support him, preventing him from falling over. 

“He and Lily were about to get engaged,” Devon explained John's behaviour to Orlando. 

~ 

“There's been another murder,” Eric told Dominic as he closed his mobile. They had only just left the grounds and now Dom made a U-turn to return to Lyndon Hall. 

“What the hell is going on down there,” Dom muttered under his breath. “Who is it this time?”

Eric sighed. “The maid, Lily.”

Dom grimaced. “Do you think someone overheard us?”

“It looks like it, and guess who found the body?” Eric felt a headache coming up.

“Not Mr Bloom again?” 

“The same.”

“Does that worry you?” Dom asked, glancing briefly at his DI.

Eric grumbled something that sounded like, 'what do you think'. 

“Let's keep an open mind,” Dom said, repeating Eric's words from earlier that day.

~

Arriving at Lyndon Hall, Eric and Dominic noticed the commotion and panic at the discovery of yet another body. There seemed to be considerably more agitation as people began to realize there was a murderer among them. 

They were immediately escorted to the scene of the crime by one of the uniformed  
policemen, who were still on the grounds, because the first crime scene was not yet cleared.

Doctor Boyd, who had also been alerted, was already busy retrieving all forensic evidence. 

“Doctor?” Eric looked at the body of the young woman and noticed a crutch lying a few feet away from her. His stomach churned. 

“Hit on the head by a heavy object,” Doctor Boyd said shortly.

“Any idea what the weapon could be?” Dom asked; he hadn't missed the presence of the crutch either.

Eric narrowed his eyes at the question, but waited anxiously on the answer. 

“Not yet, I suspect it's not the crutch, though. It wouldn’t be easy to swing it and not heavy enough to cause this kind of damage, but I will have to examine the wound first before I can rule it out completely,” the doctor replied. He issued orders for one of his staff to bag the crutch. 

Resigned, Eric thanked him and turned to the police officer who had brought him to the scene. “Where is Mr Bloom?”

“This way, sir,” the young officer said and led them down the corridor to a room with another officer standing guard in front of it. 

Eric pushed the door open and was surprised to find, besides Orlando, three other men in the room with him. It was a small office and he was told it belonged to Lord Monkfish's secretary.

“Detective Inspector Bana?” A young man about Mr Bloom's age asked.

Eric nodded.

“I'm Devon Monkfish. My father is with my grandmother at the moment, explaining all the... activity around and in the house to her, which is why he can't be here.” He turned to the man sitting with his head in his hands. “This is John Smith, my father's secretary, he and Lily were about to get engaged, and you know Mr Bloom, and our butler, Geoffrey. He was the second person on the scene after Mr Bloom.”

Eric nodded and was pleasantly surprised at the concise way the young man explained the situation. “Thank you, sir. Is there some place where I can interview everyone separately?”

Devon nodded and walked with the inspector to the door. “I would like to stay here with John, he's quite upset, but Geoffrey can show you to my office.” He nodded at Geoffrey who immediately stepped forward, opening the door. 

“This way, gentlemen,” he said.

“Mr Bloom?” Eric finally addressed the curly haired young man, who had been extremely quiet. “Follow us, please.”

“I can't,” Orlando replied shortly.

Dominic immediately turned to look at Orlando, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Why not?”

“I can't walk without a crutch and since I wasn't allowed to pick it up after I'd fallen... I don't exactly have any spare ones lying around in my room.”

It was obvious to everyone in the room that Orlando was seriously pissed off. 

“Shall I-” Geoffrey started but Eric held up his hand. 

“That's okay. Go ahead with my sergeant please, Mr Waverley, I will follow with Mr Bloom.” Eric walked back into the room to where Orlando was sitting. 

“I apologise,” he said to the younger man. “It was quite inconsiderate of us to assume that confiscating your crutch would have no consequences for you. Can I offer you my support?” 

Orlando gave a short nod and took Eric's arm to pull himself up from the chair with a painful groan. 

Eric noticed that Orlando's balance was very poor and he didn't think the man was exaggerating his condition. He would have to investigate it further though. 

They walked in silence, Eric trying to come up with something to say, but he couldn't think of anything that wasn’t directly related to the case and he didn't want to ruin any elements of surprise he might have when questioning Orlando later. 

“Ah, here we are,” he said when Dom looked around the corner to see what was keeping them. Eric led Orlando to a chair and he carefully lowered himself in it. 

“Excuse me, Mr Bloom?” Orlando looked a little dismayed at the way Geoffrey addressed him, until he realized the butler was being formal due to the police officers presence. “Do you need me to call Doctor Hamilton? His Lordship said I could contact him any time that you need him.”

Orlando sighed and nodded. “Yes, thank you Geoffrey, it would probably be a good idea to have the doctor look at my leg.”

Geoffrey nodded at the two police officers and then closed the door behind him. 

“Okay, Mr Bloom, you know what to expect by now, I think,” Dom started a little bluntly. “What were you doing in that corridor?”

Orlando raised his eyebrows at the way he was being addressed and then shrugged. “I was on my way to the kitchen. I hadn’t eaten lunch and I was hungry so I decided to see if there was something I could take up to my room.”

“Isn't that a little unusual?” Dom continued, convinced that Mr Bloom wasn't as innocent as he had seemed earlier in the day.

“Perhaps, but since Professor Rickman doesn't want the servants to disturb us by bringing lunch, it's not the first time that I have visited the kitchen. If you don't believe me you can ask the cook and the butler,” Orlando said belligerently. 

“We _do_ have to ask these questions, Mr Bloom,” Eric reminded him gently, trying to soften Orlando’s attitude by reminding him they were just following procedure.

“I am aware of that, but as far as I know the law, a person is innocent until proven guilty. That's not quite how I have been treated ever since the police arrived on the scene.”

Eric and Dom looked briefly at each other. That was news to them. Eric leaned forward in his chair. “What do you mean?”

“First John accused me of having killed his girlfriend – which I appreciate to a certain extend – but then the police arrived and the one guarding the door told the others that they had already apprehended the killer even before CID arrived.” He snorted. “They'd make lousy investigators.”

Eric sighed. “I'm sorry, that's certainly not the way we go about things. Now you've told us why you were in that corridor, can you tell us what happened? How did you find Lily?”

“With my leg hurting the way it does, it took me a while to get from the library to the corridor leading to the kitchen. It was quite dark in the hall, so I couldn’t really see well when I went around the corner. I immediately tripped over... something, which turned out to be Lily's legs.”

“Could you tell she was dead?” Dom asked.

Orlando shook his head. “She wasn't dead, she asked for help.”

This made Eric sit up in his chair. “She _wasn't_ dead at that moment? How come no one knows this?”

Orlando cocked his head. “Because no one listened? Or asked?” he said cynically. “Everyone was far too busy pointing the finger at me being the one who murdered her.”

Eric sighed and shook his head, determined to do this the right way. “Okay, she was still alive. Did she say anything else, besides asking for help?”

Orlando nodded and Dom sat ready to write it down. “Yes, she did say something else, she also reached out her hand to me and I held onto it.” He showed his bloodied hands. “I-I hope it gave her some comfort...” he murmured looking away.

Dom sat practically vibrating in his chair but Eric shot him a warning look of 'no scaring off the only witness they had'.

“Tell us please what she said, as exact as you can remember,” Eric urged Orlando. 

Orlando turned his head and faced him again, with a sad expression in his eyes. “I don't think it makes much sense, but Lily said: _'Gypsy... the gypsy has returned... s-she said... he has returned-'_. Lily didn't say who _she_ was, nor did she say anything else. She stopped abruptly when she... when she...” 

Eric nodded in understanding, then he frowned as he tried to make sense of the last words Lily had spoken. “She talked about a gypsy? As if there were a gypsy in the house, perhaps?”

“No, that's not what I said.” Orlando shook his curls out of his eyes in frustration. “What Lily said sounded as if she was only repeating what someone else had told her. No idea who; I haven't seen anyone else and I also didn't hear anything while I was walking there. I don't know how long she had been lying there before I found her.”

“Good, thank you Mr Bloom,” Eric nodded and turned to his sergeant. “Find out if there have been Gypsies seen around here, at the door perhaps, selling their wares.”

Dominic made a note. 

“There's one last thing I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you, Mr Bloom,” Eric started, knowing this wouldn't go down well. 

“What's that inspector?” The young man sounded tired and Eric could only guess how he felt after this rather horrific day. 

“I need to see your foot.” An incredulous look appeared on Orlando's face and Eric hastened to explain, “I'm sorry, but I need to establish that your crutch isn't used as a prop...” 

With abrupt, angry movements, Orlando removed his shoe and sock and pulled his trouser leg up, showing his foot and leg to both men. 

“Satisfied?” Orlando asked stiffly.

His face neutral, despite seeing the numerous scars and disfigurements, Eric nodded. “Thank you for your cooperation, Mr Bloom. Let me call the butler for you, and have him assist you to a room where you can wait for the doctor.”

Orlando did not respond and Eric took his silence as an affirmative. He opened the door and Geoffrey came in and helped Orlando to the corridor. With a sigh Eric closed the door behind them.

“That went well,” Dominic commented with a roll of his eyes. “I know we can't rule out anybody at this stage, but I don't see how he would have been able to bludgeon Lily with something that needs both hands to swing it, let alone be accurate enough in hitting her to do any real damage. He doesn't have enough balance without support and I can't see someone holding him up while he takes a swing at the girl.”

Eric sighed. “I _had_ to ask him to show us his foot, but it doesn't make me feel better about it.” 

“I know, and when he has a chance to think about it, Mr Bloom will realize that too.” Dom agreed.

Eric nodded, hoping that would be true. Then he forcefully dragged his focus back to the case. “As for your earlier assessment, I agree. I don't think Mr Bloom is our murderer. Strangling Rose Pendleton would require the use of both hands as well as perfect balance, which we know he doesn't have.”

Dominic nodded and leafed through his notebook until he found what he was looking for. “What do you make of Lily's last words?”

 _'Gypsy... the gypsy is back... s-she said... he was back-'_.

“Mr Bloom has a point when he says that it sounds as if she repeated something someone had told her.” Eric muttered. “What if our friend the butler told Lily that we wanted to talk to her about Rose Pendleton's last days?” he continued half in thought. “And what if she was trying to tell Orlando what Rose had been muttering.”

Dom nodded, chewing on his pen as he stared off into space. “ _He_ was back and this 'he' looks like a gypsy perhaps?” he offered. 

“Could be,” Eric nodded, liking how they were getting somewhere. “Geoffrey said that he assumed she was talking about Devon...”

Dominic huffed. “If there's anyone who looks less like a gypsy it's Devon Monkfish. If we're looking for someone resembling a gypsy then Orlando Bloom would be the first person who comes to mind with those long, dark curls... only the golden earrings are missing.”

Eric scowled, but then, when the words started to sink in, he had a brief thought, that slipped away a moment later. He knew one thing, though. “I want you to find out Orlando's date and place of birth,” he told Dominic, and at the strange look his DS gave him. “Just a hunch I have.”

“Let's question John Smith next, Lily's fiancé to be,” Eric instructed and Dom went to fetch him. 

~

Fuming silently at the treatment he’d received from the detectives, Orlando let Geoffrey help him to the downstairs sitting room. “I will bring the doctor as soon as he arrives,” Geoffrey promised him. 

“I should probably let Professor Rickman know what happened...” Orlando started, but Geoffrey held up his hand.

“Don't you worry about that, Orlando, I'll see that he is informed.

“Thank you, Geoffrey,” Orlando said and when the butler had left he leant his head against the headrest and closed his eyes. He was exhausted, in pain, and humiliated to the core. He hadn't expected Detective Inspector Bana to ask him to show his foot, to prove to him he really needed that damned crutch!

“Aren't you Professor Rickman's assistant?” a woman's voice asked him.

Orlando quickly opened his eyes and looked at the young woman staring down at him. 

“Are you alright?” she asked, when he didn't answer immediately. 

“Yes, I am Orlando Bloom, Professor Rickman's assistant. My leg is causing me quite a bit of pain and I’m waiting for Doctor Hamilton to arrive.”

“I'm Isabel Monkfish, Devon's wife. A good thing his grandmother is up in her room, she would throw you out immediately.”

Orlando grimaced at Isabel's words. “I've already met Lady Millicent. I wasn't impressed by her manners and I told her so.”

The woman gasped and then giggled. “She can be a bit intimidating. You're not going to move someplace else then?” 

Astounded by her bluntness, Orlando shook his head. “Did you take lessons from Lady Millicent?”

The girl shrugged and moved some items on the mantelpiece, she seemed bored, or maybe out of her depth. “She told me not to be familiar with servants and since I'm going to be Lady of Lyndon Hall someday, I'm practising.” She smiled over her shoulder at him. “How am I doing?” she giggled again, apparently finding it all a good joke.

Orlando rubbed his forehead, feeling a headache coming on. “If you want your staff to hate you, do keep going the way you are, you're doing a good job. However, you _should_ learn the difference between staff and guests. I'm not a member of staff, I'm a guest and you're treating me very poorly.”

The girl turned again, a blush staining her cheeks. “I'm sorry, I was just trying to find out if I had it in me,” she sniffed. “You're a bit grumpy though,” she accused him.

Orlando sighed. “I just told you I'm in a lot of pain and I've had an unpleasant interview with the police, so yes, I am grumpy and I have every reason to be.”

“Oh yes, Lily's murder,” Isabel plopped down on the couch. “Who do you think offed her? I heard it was a rather bloody affair.”

“Isabel!” Devon Monkfish stood in the doorway, an angry expression on his face. “A girl has died – someone your own age, stop behaving like a silly child!”

Isabel jumped up, burst into tears and rushed past Devon and up the stairs. He sighed and then turned to Orlando. “Has she been bothering you?”

Orlando shrugged; he liked Devon and couldn't really understand what had attracted him to Isabel, she seemed very young for her age. “She was practising her 'Lady Millicent' on me... I'm afraid I didn't respond well to it.”

Devon rolled his eyes and sat down on the couch his wife had just abandoned. “I heard about the run-in you had with my grandmother. Good for you though, she can be a harpy sometimes. I certainly don't want Isabel to turn in to her.”

Orlando grinned. “You've got your work cut out for you, mate!”

Devon grinned back and then there was a knock on the door and Geoffrey announced Doctor Hamilton. 

The doctor nodded politely at Devon who stood and introduced him to Orlando. “I will leave you to it, Doctor. Good luck, Orlando.” 

Orlando nodded his thanks and then tried to relax while the doctor examined his leg. 

“Your leg muscles have knotted up completely and you’ve also got a slight strain,” Doctor Hamilton stated. “I will prescribe some muscle relaxants for you. You're not allergic to anything are you?” And at Orlando's denial, he continued. “You need to rest your leg as much as possible and hopefully it will feel much better in the morning. If not, I can ask our local physiotherapist to pay you a visit and see if we can’t get those muscles to loosen up again.”

“Thank you, doctor,” Orlando sighed in relief when the doctor let go of his leg and accepted the bottle of pills from him. 

The doctor closed his bag and stood, shaking Orlando's hand. “Four times a day, when necessary and have Geoffrey call me if it gets worse.” Then he rushed out of the room again, back to his busy practise. 

Within a couple of minutes Geoffrey returned. “Would you like to go up to your room, Orlando?” he asked. 

“Yes, please, Geoffrey. The doctor gave me some muscle relaxants and said I should rest my leg. I think my bed would be a good place for me.”

“Okay, let's get you up the stairs,” Geoffrey said, helping Orlando up from the chair. 

Half way up the stairs, Orlando had to stop. “The stairway from hell,” he muttered and Geoffrey chuckled. 

“I can carry you, Orlando,” the tall man offered. 

Orlando turned to look at him, still holding onto Geoffrey's arm for support. “You're a kind man, Geoffrey, thanks for offering but I'll get there, as long as Lady Millicent stays out of my way.” 

Geoffrey grinned and nodded. “Almost there,” he encouraged Orlando. “Would you like me to bring you up something for dinner?” He attempted to distract the young man. 

Orlando nodded. “Something to eat would be nice. I missed lunch.” 

They arrived at Orlando's room and Geoffrey helped him inside and settled Orlando on the bed.

“Can you manage?” Geoffrey asked in concern, observing the way Orlando was sitting slumped over. 

Orlando shrugged. “I'll have too. I haven't got another crutch, so it's going to be a bit of a challenge until the police see fit to return my crutch to me. ” He started to take off his shoes with a groan. “Would you please hand me some water, I'd like to take the pills Dr Hamilton gave me straight away.”

Geoffrey went to fetch a glass of water from the adjacent bathroom and handed it to Orlando, who quickly swallowed his medication. 

“I will get your dinner now, I'm sure Cook will prepare something nice for you.” Geoffrey said, walking to the door. 

“Unless she thinks I'm Lily's killer; then she'll probably try to poison me,” Orlando grumbled, remembering the hostile looks thrown his way from some of the staff.

“No one thinks that, Orlando. We know you better than that. Don't mind John, he's just terribly upset.” Geoffrey assured him and then he left to fetch Orlando’s dinner.

Orlando nodded tiredly and started undressing, taking off his trousers while holding on to the bedside table. He had just managed to get comfortable in bed when Geoffrey returned with a tray full of delicious smelling food. 

“Compliments from Cook, she hopes you will feel better soon,” he smiled.

“Please thank her from me, Geoffrey; it's very kind of her.” Orlando had feared that despite his growling stomach he wouldn't be able to eat much, but amazingly he ate all that was on the tray.

When he was finished he put the tray on the bedside table and laid back in the pillows, feeling a bit drowsy, the muscle relaxants were obviously starting to work.

Geoffrey had switched on the television before he left and Orlando used the remote to see what was on. The first thing that appeared however, was a battered body, and even though he usually enjoyed watching Midsomer Murders, today it was very bad timing and Orlando quickly switched the television off. 

Orlando snuggled back in the pillows and closed his eyes tiredly; sleep might be a better idea.

That idea didn't quite work out though. 

Nightmares plagued Orlando for most of the night. 

 

_Bodies were floating in the lake, people looking ghastly pale were shouting from beneath the ice that they wanted to escape and the water turned red from the blood that streamed from the victims._

 

Orlando sat up with a gasp and stared around frantically until he recognized the contours of his room in the dark and with a sigh of relief he lay back down. 

His thoughts drifted off to the handsome police inspector. Detective Inspector Bana was just what Orlando liked in a man. Then he remembered the humiliating demand the inspector had issued. Angrily Orlando turned on his side and closed his eyes, no more thinking of handsome men, especially not police inspectors! 

This time he slept without any further nightmares. 

~ 

With a yawn, Detective Inspector Bana exited the car in front of the Pathology Lab. He'd had a rather restless night. Two bodies in one day, two murders and why these women were murdered was still a mystery.

Eric pushed the door open after putting on a protective coat, cap and bags over his shoes. He noticed his DS was already there waiting for him, while Doctor Boyd was on the other side of the room washing his hands.

“Ready to hear the verdict?” Dominic asked him, knowing his boss wanted to hear that Orlando Bloom's crutch wasn't the murder weapon. 

Eric just glared at him. It was one of the questions he very much wanted to hear the answer to, but he wasn't going to share that with his DS because he’d just tease him about it.

 

“Good morning, gentlemen,” Doctor Boyd said cheerfully. Then his face sobered as he led them to the first body and folded the sheet back. “Rose Pendleton. The ligature marks show that she was strangled, but apparently she wasn't dead when she went into the water. There was water in her lungs, which means she drowned. I've also found large bruises on her upper arms.” Doctor Boyd lowered the sheet a little further and both arms clearly showed bruises in the shape of fingers. “The coldness of the water could have revived her and the killer held her down until she drowned.” 

Doctor Boyd pulled the sheet back over Rose Pendleton's body.  
“She did put up a struggle because we've found bits of fibre from some sort of fabric under her fingernails, which we still have to investigate further.”

Dom turned to Eric. “Do you remember what Mr Bloom told us yesterday morning?”

Eric nodded. “Yes, _'as if she knew she was going to die'_ It seems that was exactly the case.”

“Do you think...” Dominic started.

“I can't see how he would have been able to.” Eric shook his head. “He would have had to drag her down the bank to get her in the water and I highly doubt that it would have been possible to do that with the use of only one hand.”

Dom had to concede there was truth in Eric's words. “It would explain why the strangling didn't work though,” he said, playing Devil's advocate. 

Eric rolled his eyes. “I don't think he could have held her down either, but it seems we still can't rule him out entirely as a suspect.”

Doctor Boyd had been waiting for them to finish and then drew their attention to the second body, folding the sheet back to reveal Lily. “The second body. No doubts as to the cause of death. One hard blow with a heavy object, causing a fractured skull and massive blood loss. Stephanie?” Doctor Boyd motioned to his assistant and she handed an object to him, which turned out to be Orlando's crutch. 

“The crutch is definitely not the murder weapon; it’s not nearly heavy enough.” He handed the crutch to Eric. “There was blood on it, but that was from the pool of blood on the floor. There was no skin tissue or hairs from the victim on it.”

“Thank you, doctor,” Eric said, relieved at least at this outcome about Orlando. “Anything else you can tell us?”

The doctor was filling in a form and looked up in momentary confusion, but then he nodded. “Oh yes, you're looking for something hmm... like a cast iron object. Very heavy, needs both hands to swing it. A fire poker maybe,” he told Eric and with a nod he gathered up his papers and walked over to the computer in the corner. 

Dom turned to Eric. “They haven't found anything else that could be used as a weapon, so unless Orlando hid it somewhere pretty well, he couldn't have done it. Professor Rickman told us that he allowed Orlando to leave a couple of minutes before four o'clock and the call to us was at 4:17 pm.” 

Eric nodded. “And if he didn't kill Lily, there's not much reason to assume he killed the nanny, I'm quite sure these two murders are connected. There's only one way to establish whether he would have had the time to kill Lily, get rid of the weapon and return to 'find' her.” He then scowled. “Although the swinging with both hands is still something I believe he's not capable of.”

“There's only one way to find out,” Dom repeated. 

Eric sighed and rolled his shoulders. “Right, let's go and return the crutch and then put Mr Bloom to the test. Then we'll search the nanny's room.” 

~

Half way down the stairs on his way to the library, Orlando ran into Isabel and she nodded at him. 

“Are you feeling better this morning?” she asked and Orlando nodded.

“Yes, thank you, Doctor Hamilton gave me some muscle relaxants and my leg is less painful today.” He stepped down the last step and looked around for something to hold on to so he could make his way to the library.

“I... uh,” Isabel had stopped beside him. “I could help you if you like. I'm stronger than I look,” she offered a little shyly.

Not wanting to offend her, Orlando accepted her help a little reluctantly. “Thank you, if you're sure?” 

Isabel offered her arm and nodded. “I want to make amends for yesterday. I suppose the shock of everything that happened made me lose my head for a bit.” 

Orlando could understand being shocked, although that wasn't quite how he would've described Isabel's behaviour the day before. “That's all right, we all react differently to something as terrible as this,” he told her. “Ah, here we are.” 

Isabel opened the door of the library and guided Orlando inside. To his utter surprise Professor Rickman immediately took over, hastily thanking Isabel for her kindness and waving her out of the library. Then he almost dragged Orlando to his own chair and pointed excitedly at the screen.

“I've made a very important discovery, Bloom, one even His Lordship is unaware of, I'm certain of it!” 

Orlando looked at the screen. 

On it was a picture of a hand written document about a strange mark, found on the left buttock of a first born Monkfish son named Charles. Then in a different handwriting and another date about twenty years later, again a statement about something that was now called a birthmark on a left shoulder blade, this was Charles' first born son Marcus. 

The third mention was the most extensive one though:

_Born Andrew James Monkfish, eldest son of Henry James Monkfish, grandson of Marcus James Monkfish. A birthmark, purple in colour and with the shape of a fish, found under the left arm. A son born without the mark is not a true Monkfish._

“A birthmark in the form of a fish. Quite appropriate, considering the name,” Orlando remarked. “Is that really possible?”

Professor Rickman nodded eagerly and Orlando had seldom seen him this enthusiastic. “Lord Monkfish never mentioned any birthmarks; it must be a trait unknown to him. Orlando, I want you to search the archives and see if you can find any other mention of that birthmark. For now, concentrate on any first born son. This last entry about the birthmark was in 1712, so work your way up from there.”

“I'm on it professor,” Orlando nodded and grinned. Never had Alan Rickman seemed to have enjoyed a research job as much as he did now that he may have discovered something of great enough importance to the Monkfish family to have it found described in a document. 

Before Orlando could touch his laptop though, there was a knock on the door of the library. Geoffrey entered, followed by Detective Inspector Bana and Detective Sergeant Monaghan.

“These gentlemen are here to see you, Mr Bloom,” Geoffrey announced. 

The smile left Orlando's face and with cold eyes he watched the police officers approach.

“Good morning, Mr Bloom, Professor,” DI Bana nodded politely at them.

“Inspector, are you here to arrest me?” Orlando asked in a hostile tone. 

The Inspector sighed and shook his head. “We're not the enemy Mr Bloom, I'm sorry if you feel that way.” He unpacked the crutch, still wrapped in plastic from the Pathology Lab, and handed it to Orlando. 

“We came to return your crutch, I realize it will have inconvenienced you and I apologize, but we were obliged to follow procedure and have it examined. We are now certain it is not the murder weapon used to kill Lily Miles.” 

Grudgingly Orlando accepted his crutch. “Don't expect me to be surprised at that conclusion, Inspector. I haven't killed Lily, or the nanny, I was just unlucky enough to find both bodies.”

DS Monaghan stepped forward. “In that case I'm sure you won't mind helping us with a little experiment, Mr Bloom?” 

“That depends,” Orlando said defiantly. “Tell me what you want me to do first and then I'll decide.”

“You know we can make you cooperate?” DS Monaghan replied tersely. 

The inspector cut in. “I'm sorry Mr Bloom, but if you will come with me, I will explain it to you along the way, I promise.”

Realizing that he would be rid of them sooner rather than later if he cooperated, Orlando grabbed his crutch and slowly pushed himself up from the chair. He winced as his leg protested. The muscle relaxants had done a good job but he probably needed another dose. 

“Are you alright?” the inspector asked, apparently in concern. 

“No, not really, Inspector. Falling twice, once in the snow and later over Lily, hasn't done my leg much good. I hurried back here after finding the body in the lake which didn't help either and then you made me go around without a crutch, even after I specifically told you I am unable to walk without a crutch!” 

He limped to the door where he turned around to look at the inspector angrily. “I've had to have a doctor visit the Hall, because I was in a lot of pain and I only managed to sleep with muscle relaxants and as if the pain wasn't enough, I was also plagued by nightmares all night. I'm far from alright!” 

His outburst made even Professor Rickman look up from his work and frown. “I hope you find out who did it soon, Inspector,” he said in annoyance. “My assistant has better things to do than be distracted by these interrogations.”

The Sergeant opened his mouth to no doubt tell the Professor where his priorities should be but the Inspector held up his hand.

“Like you, professor, we're just trying to do our job and since there apparently is a murderer around, I would think it was also in your and Mr Bloom's best interest to have these killings solved as soon as possible.”

There was not much Professor Rickman could say to that. He sniffed dismissively and turned back to his computer.

Orlando still stood by the door and realized that the Inspector was right so he decided to try to be as cooperative as possible. “Shall we get on with it, Inspector? I can't stand too long as it is and I don't know what you have in store for me.” 

Inspector Bana turned and nodded with a smile, perhaps sensing Orlando's changed mood. “Of course.” They stepped out of the library and DS Monaghan closed the door, then, behind Orlando’s back, he pulled something from his jacket pocket. 

“At the chance of alienating you again, Mr Bloom,” the inspector started.

Orlando waved his hand. “Please call me Orlando; I'm sure we will run – the running being all on your part – into each other a few more times. As I've said before, Inspector, I've been treated as a suspect with very little attention to the 'innocent until proven guilty' aspect. That doesn't do anything to make me feel much like cooperating.”

DI Bana nodded in understanding. “Orlando, I know that things haven't been easy on you, it appears you’ve just had the bad fortune to have been in the wrong place at the wrong time; which is why we have to investigate this further. Walk with me, please.”

The inspector turned the corner and walked in the direction of the side corridor where Orlando had tripped over Lily. He let Orlando set the pace, while DS Monaghan walked behind them, carrying a stopwatch.

When he realized where they were going, Orlando hesitated. 

“Please keep going, Orlando, I will explain everything to you shortly,” DI Bana told him. 

When they turned into the corridor where Lily was murdered, Orlando stopped abruptly, his face paling at the sight of the large blood stain still visible on the carpet and the reddish brown smear on the wall. Someone had obviously tried to clean it off, but it was still visible.

“Please, I can't be here, don't do this to me, don't make me go through this again,” he practically begged the Inspector. 

Orlando noticed Inspector Bana turned to his Sergeant who slowly shook his head and then the Inspector motioned for Orlando to follow him away from the crime scene. 

“I'm sorry for having to put you through this, Orlando,” the Inspector told the visibly shaken man. “Despite our search yesterday in the vicinity of the crime scene, we haven't found anything that could have been used as a murder weapon, which means it must have been hidden very well. To establish whether you had the time to do this – since your crutch was ruled out as the murder weapon – we used a stopwatch to see how long it took you to get from the library to the corridor and how much time there would have been left for you to murder Lily and hide the weapon.”

Orlando raised his chin in defiance. “And?”

“It took you too long to get here to murder Lily _and_ hide the weapon in such a fashion it wouldn't be found immediately.” DS Monaghan told him.

“Did you look out the window at the end of the corridor?” Orlando asked him with raised eyebrows. “That's where I would have thrown anything I wanted to get rid of in a hurry. And then I would have come back for it later to make sure it was never found.”

DI Bana chuckled. “By your own admission you can't walk without a crutch, you couldn't have known we would confiscate it, so that wouldn't have worked, but aside from that, this window can't be opened. We checked.”

“Does this mean I'm no longer a suspect?” Orlando asked hopefully. 

“I think we can safely say that you are ruled out as the killer,” DI Bana assured him. 

“Just don't find any more bodies,” DS Monaghan warned him. 

Orlando who had been about to leave gave the Sergeant a sharp look. “It's not exactly something I want to experience again. Good day gentlemen.”

He started down the corridor when DI Bana suddenly remembered something they still needed to know. “Mr Bloom... Orlando? For our records, we need your date of birth.”

“Of course,” Orlando muttered. “I was born January 13th, 1985.”

“Thank you,” DI Bana said with a genuine smile, while his Sergeant wrote it down. 

With a final nod, Orlando disappeared into the library again.

 

~ 

 

“He _could_ have had an accomplice,” Dominic muttered putting away the stopwatch.

Eric looked at his DS with narrowed eyes. “You know that accomplice would've had to swing the weapon _and_ hide it, which makes _him_ or _her_ the killer and not Orlando. Either way, he's not the killer of Lily Miles and since I am certain these two murders are related, that means he's not the nanny's killer either.”

“Now we have to search Rose Pendleton's room,” Eric said and Dominic, having been there the day before, led the way. He produced the key from his pocket and opened the door. 

“Let's close the door behind us, we don't want to be overheard again,” Eric warned and with a nod, Dominic shut the door. 

Eric pulled his gloves on and pointed at the bed. “I'll start with the bedside drawer, you take the wardrobe.”

Dom rolled his eyes; he would still need his colleague to get to the top shelves. He started to rummage around in the wardrobe making more noise than was strictly necessary. 

On Rose Pendleton's bedside table was a Bible, the spine was cracked in several places and there were a number of handwritten notes at some of the passages. 

“Listen to this,” Eric pointed at the open Bible. “This is the verse: _Let justice roll down like waters, and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream._ Amos 5:24. She has underlined it with a red pen and at the top of the page she has written _Justice shall be done_. Does that sound like some sort of message to you?” 

 

Dom shrugged. “Could be. You think _she_ had murder on her mind?” 

Eric sighed and put the Bible aside, pulling another book out of the drawer. “I doubt it; maybe she meant it in the Biblical way?” He looked at the book in his hands and opened it. “Oh this could be interesting, it's her diary. Let's see what the last entry was.”

He leafed through the diary and stopped when he had found the last entry Rose Pendleton had written down. “Listen to this, Dom.”

Eric cleared his throat. “ _The Gypsy is back, I have seen him with my own eyes. Is he here to take revenge on us? I know it is him. The photo that Hannah had sent to Eileen was of a three year old, but I would recognize him anywhere. I wonder if she has kept the photo? Midwives are supposed to have documentation on all the babies they delivered, aren’t they? I will have to ask her._ ”

“Who are Hannah and Eileen and who is this Gypsy? He'll come back to haunt me,” Dom sighed in disgust. “Did she date that last entry?” 

Eric shook his head. “No, she didn't date it unfortunately, but the last entry before that is from December 23rd 2011, just after Devon and Isabel left on their honeymoon. As for Eileen, I suppose she is the midwife Rose talks about. I think a talk with her tomorrow might clear up a great deal of this case. Hopefully she still has the picture for us.” Eric sighed, feeling this case becoming more complicated, the more they found out about the victims. “Then there's this Hannah... Your guess is as good as mine as to who she is, maybe a relative of said 'Gypsy' because she sent a picture of him.” 

“But _WHO_ is this Gypsy she keeps going on about?” Frustrated, Dom pulled a little too hard on one of the boxes on a shelf almost out of reach and the whole stack came down on top of him and he covered his head protectively. 

Eric jumped up to try and catch the boxes but some fell on the floor. The lids of two of the boxes fell off, the contents spilling out over the floor. Upon closer examination, the contents were rather baffling. 

Small pieces of paper littered the floor, words or short sentences written on them – the same words over and over again. 

_Gypsy_

_Revenge_

_Justice_

_Lies_

_He is back!_

 

“By the looks of these...” Eric grabbed a couple of pieces of paper and held them up. “That doesn't look like she was very sane, something Geoffrey referred to yesterday. We will have to ask if there have been any visitors since Christmas and who they were. Did you find out if there were any Gypsies selling stuff at the door?” 

Dom shook his head. “They haven't had any door-to-door salesmen, Gypsies or otherwise, it is a rare thing these days anyway.” He frowned and started to collect the pieces of paper to put them back in the box. “The only visitors we know of are Professor Rickman and Mr Bloom and with that long dark hair of Orlando’s... I wouldn't be surprised if elderly women in particular called him a Gypsy.”

“With _his_ looks... I'd call him Gypsy,” Eric mumbled and his eyes got a faraway look. He cleared his throat, a little embarrassed when he realized he'd said it out loud. 

Dom rolled his eyes and continued picking up the scraps of paper. “I suppose he's a good looking bloke, if you're into blokes that is, a shame about his leg though.” 

“Yes, especially for the man himself,” Eric replied icily. “And I wouldn't strike off Professor Rickman from your list just yet, because he could be a Gypsy too... or a wizard!” 

Dom opened his mouth, but realized his boss was right, Professor Rickman could be, in the broadest sense of the word, taken for a Gypsy.

Eric grabbed Rose Pendleton's diary and the Bible from the bed and walked to the door, turning to Dom who was on his knees, collecting the last pieces of paper from under the bed side drawer. “Make sure you put everything back where it was and then lock the room behind you, I have to go and see Orlando and ask him another important question. I'll meet you out front.”

“Yes, sir!” Dom saluted at Eric's back, who just then turned back to face him.

“I thought you had closed the door?” Eric asked, scowling at his DS.

“Yes, I did close it, made especially sure it was closed, I just didn't lock it,” Dom said as he stood and looked at the door which was slightly ajar.

“Damn!” Eric cursed. “Next time we'll have someone standing guard outside the room!” Then he quickly left the room to find Orlando. 

*

“How many sons with a birthmark have you found?” Professor Rickman wanted to know from his assistant.

Orlando checked his notes. “Six up to now, they're all direct descendants from the first Monkfish born with the birth mark. There is approximately twenty to thirty years between each son. The only odd thing I found is with the last of those six. He was one of a pair of identical twins and the first one to be born. But he didn't have the birthmark, his brother did. After that there was a first born daughter and she didn't have the birthmark, her brother born two years later didn't have it either. I'm now trying to find out if he had any sons, but haven't found the information yet.”

Professor Rickman nodded. “Good work, Bloom. I hope to show this to Lord Edmund later today or tomorrow, it would be nice to have evidence that the birthmark appears further down the line as well.”

“Yes Professor,” Orlando returned to reading old documents in the hope of finding evidence of the birthmark.

Professor Rickman walked to the door of the library. “I need to make a phone call, I'll be back shortly.”

Orlando didn't look up but just nodded his head. He was so intent on what he was reading he missed Inspector Bana entering the library. 

“Mr Bloom... Orlando, I apologize for having to disturb you again, but a few more questions have arisen in our investigation and I'm hoping you can help us with them,” the inspector said. 

Orlando sat back in his chair and looked at the inspector with a little exasperation. “Inspector... I'm beginning to think you actually like me,” he said with a small grin.

Inspector Bana's eyes widened and then he grinned back. “I didn't realize I was that obvious.”

Orlando stared at him, then he shook his head. “Are you here as Inspector Bana or as...?” He raised his eyebrows in query.

“Eric, Eric Bana,” the inspector revealed his first name. 

Orlando spread his hands. “So, which one is it?”

The inspector sat down on the corner of the table beside all the open books and smiled at him. “The inspector first, if you don't mind. There really are a few more things I need to ask you about.”

“O-kay,” Orlando said slowly, wondering what to expect. 

The inspector nodded. “Thank you. Can you tell me where you were born?”

Orlando's eyebrows went up again. “What a strange question. What could it possibly have to do with the murders?”

Inspector Bana put the two books he was holding, down on the table and pulled a notebook out of his pocket. “After further investigation, it does seem to have relevance to the case. Humour me, if you will. It's not something I can't find out any other way, this is the easiest.”

Orlando shrugged. “Fine, but I’m afraid I can’t help you with that. I don't know where I was born, my mother never told me and somehow it's not on any of the documents I have, and that's the truth!” 

This time it was Inspector Bana who raised his eyebrows, but in disbelief. “That's impossible. Everyone has his place of birth on his birth certificate.”

“Well, I don't, just like there's no father mentioned on it either and I've never asked my mother, it doesn't matter.” Orlando turned away from him and pretended to read something on the screen, hoping the inspector would leave.

“Just a few more questions, please.” Inspector Bana probably sensed his reluctance, but Orlando knew it wouldn’t stop him. “Did Rose Pendleton ever call you 'Gypsy'?”

Orlando frowned. “Now why would she do that? Besides, as you well know, we never spoke.” 

“It could have been a whisper maybe, in a reaction to seeing you,” the inspector suggested. 

Drumming his fingers on the table impatiently, Orlando shook his head. “No, I exchanged no words with Rose Pendleton, nor did she even whisper something sensible to me. Why? Inspector it seems to me that you are determined to make this whole series of tragic events about me.”

The inspector held up his hands; pen in one, notebook in the other hand, in a rather defensive manner. “Our investigations have so far raised more questions than answers and some of it could be linked to the arrival of yourself and Professor Rickman.”

“It sounds to me as if Professor Rickman should be a candidate for your interrogations too, then,” Orlando declared, more than a little pissed off that he seemed to be the ‘lucky’ one getting all the police attention.

“True.” Inspector Bana nodded. “But since your involvement was more direct due to the fact you found both bodies, it's easier to get all the information we need from you first, before we move on to the next person on the list. Which is why I have to ask you one last question,” the inspector informed him.

“Fine, last question,” Orlando grumbled.

“What is your mother's first name?” 

Orlando threw his hands up in exasperation. “Now why would you need to know _that_? I can tell you right now, Inspector Bana, my mother has nothing to do with what is going on here.”

The inspector shook his head. “I'm afraid that is up to us to decide.”

Grabbing his crutch from beside him, Orlando pushed himself up out of his chair until he stood almost nose to nose with the inspector. “No, Inspector it's not and I'm not going to answer any more of your ridiculous questions!” Without waiting for the inspector’s response, Orlando limped out of the library.

Sighing, Eric put his notebook away and grabbed Rose Pendleton's diary and Bible from the table and left the library too. He decided to leave Orlando alone for now, but he would eventually have to know whether the _Hannah_ in the nanny's diary was Orlando Bloom's mother. 

He was in for some reading tonight. He hoped he would find some answers in Rose Pendleton's diary. 

His DS wandered into the hall and Eric motioned to the front door, indicating he wanted to leave. He would update Dom on the latest developments in the car. 

 

* 

Orlando limped down the steps; he had grabbed his coat from the coat rack in the hallway and hurried outside as fast as he could. Breathing in deeply, he tried to dispel his anger. 

What made the inspector think that whatever was going on in this place had anything to do with his mother? 

He looked up at the sound of a car driving over the gravel at great speed and watched it leave through the gates. A forlorn figure was left behind, Orlando recognised Devon. 

“Was that your wife?” he asked Devon, nodding at the car disappearing in the distance. 

Devon nodded. “Yeah, she's late for an appointment and she's mad at me.” He looked sideways at Orlando. “She was talking to my grandmother, telling her about all that has happened around here lately and grandmother was getting upset, so I had to curb Isabel's enthusiasm, particularly in describing all the gruesome details.” 

Orlando grimaced and started walking again. “I wonder if she would still do that, if _she_ had been the one to discover the bodies.”

Devon shoved his hands in his pockets, adjusting his pace to Orlando's. “I doubt it, she's rather excitable.”

Orlando rolled his eyes and Devon grinned. “Yeah, I noticed,” Orlando admitted. 

They walked a while in silence, and then the car with the inspector and his sergeant drove by. 

Orlando's face tightened at the sight and apparently Devon noticed it. “Are you alright?” he asked. “You look... upset.”

“I am,” Orlando sighed. “The inspector... He was asking all kinds of personal questions. Some have absolutely nothing to do with the case at all, like what my mother's first name is...” 

“Oh... that's odd. She hasn't even been here, has she?” Devon asked.

Orlando shook his head and stopped walking, turning to Devon. “No, she hasn't,” he said firmly.

Devon halted as well and looked at Orlando. “My father has the same shadows in his eyes when he thinks of my mother. She's dead isn't she, your mother?”

“Yes, she passed away seven years ago, just after my twentieth birthday,” Orlando said quietly, looking away from Devon. Even now he didn’t find it easy to talk about losing his mother.

“It's something that never gets easier, does it?” Devon remarked. “My mother passed away when I was twelve and there's so much I still had wanted to share with her.” He looked at Orlando and then back at the house. “Would you like to have dinner with me tonight? I'm not expecting Isabel back until later and Dad is not leaving Grandmother's side, I could do with some company.”

Orlando smiled and nodded. “That sounds good. Professor Rickman will probably continue with his work until late, but I don't think he'll need me.”

Devon's face lit up with pleasure at Orlando's words and he turned back to the house. “Let's go see if Cook has something delicious for us.” He waited for Orlando to catch up and then they walked back to the Hall together. 

 

* 

Eric had taken Rose Pendleton's diary and Bible home with him, but he hadn't been able to concentrate on reading the diary. 

He sighed heavily, his intention to show Orlando he wasn't such a bad guy hadn't exactly worked out. If anything, Orlando probably thought even worse of him now and somehow it all had to do with asking after his mother. With Orlando refusing to cooperate, he’d have to see if Dominic could find anything on the Bloom family in the computer and find out her first name that way.

His gaze fell on Rose Pendleton's diary and he picked it up from the table. He would make a start on reading it now before seeing the midwife in the morning.

 

_November 1984_

_I have arrived at Lyndon Hall and was immediately taken by Lord and Lady Monkfish. Lady Alice is a very soft-spoken woman, very kind and asked me if my room was adequate. It was a nice surprise to be treated so warmly._

_Met Lady Millicent. She is very unpleasant. Servants shouldn't breathe the same air as she is, shouldn't be heard or seen and definitely not be treated like human beings. And she can't stand imperfection!_

Eric chuckled, Lady Millicent seemed quite a piece of work; he was glad he hadn't met her and probably wouldn't need to either.

He took a sip of his tea and read on in the diary. The next couple of entries were about Rose's meeting with the rest of the staff and a few more with Lady Alice, nothing strange.

He turned the page and read the next entry.

_The servant girl Hannah is pregnant too, she's due a week or so later than Lady Alice. Apparently she doesn't have a husband. I haven't been able to find out what's going on there._

Eric pulled a face. He realized his nosiness came with the job, but he hated when people couldn't leave things alone and kept on digging into things that didn't concern them. 

Then he remembered something Orlando had told him that afternoon. _' just like there's no father mentioned on it either'_

Could it be a coincidence? He quickly read on to see if there was anything else of interest in the diary.

_January 13th, 1985._

_I hope God will forgive me for what we have done. Eileen says it was the only way to save the child, but I can't believe that woman would hurt him. If only Hannah hadn't gone into labour on the same day as Lady Alice, or if one of the babies had been a girl..._

Eric frowned. What did Rose mean by that? Which woman? And what did they do that needed to be forgiven? 

Then it struck him. _Two_ babies were born on January 13th, 1985!

Both boys. One born to Hannah, one born to Lady Alice... It was too much of a coincidence that Orlando Bloom was born on the 13th of January in 1985 too. 

But what was it that had happened next? Eric shook his head, this case was giving him a headache. Talking to the midwife became more and more important. Eric looked at his watch and noticed it was after eleven. Too late to bother a midwife who probably had enough broken nights as it was. 

He leafed through the diary, reading a piece here and there, just a bit surprised that this little book should hold over twenty-five years of Rose Pendleton's life. Her entries became shorter though, sometimes just a single sentence and sometimes more than five entries on one page. Sometimes there wasn't an entry in months.

None of the entries Eric read after the birth made much sense though and they reminded him of the pieces of paper they had found in Rose's room. Apparently what had happened, had made her mentally quite unstable. 

* 

Orlando turned over in bed; his leg was still giving him grief and he'd taken another dose of muscle relaxants in the hope he would sleep.

Dinner with Devon had been a pleasant affair and Cook had spoiled them with all kinds of delicious treats. 

At some point Devon had received a phone call from his wife that she had run into a friend and was going to the pub for a drink and would be late. 

After they had finished their meal, Devon had excused himself saying he was going to give his father a break from sitting with his grandmother and he'd wished Orlando goodnight. 

 

About to doze off, Orlando came fully awake again at the sound of a car driving up to the house, the slamming of car doors and a high pitched giggle. 

He manoeuvred out of bed, grabbed his crutch and limped to the window, looking out over the driveway. He just caught Devon grabbing Isabel before she stumbled on the steps and she then almost fell over giggling, obviously drunk. 

Orlando rolled his eyes. 

She had been smart enough to take a taxi though. He noticed Geoffrey coming down the steps to pay the driver, while Devon did his best to get his wife into the house without further mishaps. 

When everything had quieted down, now shivering from the cold, Orlando crawled back into bed and this time he quickly fell asleep. 

*

The next morning Orlando woke up feeling slightly groggy. His leg was still bothering him and he decided to get in touch with Doctor Hamilton to see if he could arrange a physiotherapist to come to Lyndon Hall to give it a treatment. 

Getting dressed took quite a bit longer than usual because the pain and colder weather had stiffened up his muscles. He grabbed his mobile and put it in his trouser pocket. He would seek out Geoffrey as soon as he was downstairs to ask for Doctor Hamilton's phone number. 

Orlando checked his appearance in the bathroom mirror, quickly grabbing an elastic band and pulling his long hair into a pony tail. “Better.” He nodded at himself. He slipped his arm into the cuff of his crutch and then left his room. 

His progress was slow since his leg wasn't cooperating and when he reached the stairs he sighed at the prospect of the long way down. He noticed Geoffrey hurrying towards the kitchen and Devon going out the front door. 

Suddenly Orlando lost his balance and pitched forward. His arm slid out of his crutch, but he kept his hold on the banister. Gripping it tightly, he flailed wildly with his other arm as his crutch bounced down the stairs, making it sound as if the house was collapsing around him. Orlando slid down a couple of steps and then someone grabbed him from behind stopping his fall.

“That was close, Bloom,” Professor Rickman grumbled as he waited to release Orlando until he was steady on his feet again. 

“Thanks, Professor,” Orlando gasped a little shakily. 

“What the hell is going on? Orlando, did you fall down the stairs?” Devon, who had heard the commotion, had come hurrying back inside. Geoffrey had also reappeared in the hallway.

Upstairs, startled staff, Isabel, and John also came to see what was going on.

Orlando nodded at Devon, still clinging tightly to the banister. “Yes,” he finally replied. “Would someone please hand me my crutch?” 

Geoffrey immediately grabbed the crutch and handed it to Orlando, hovering anxiously until Orlando had safely reached the bottom of the stairs. 

Professor Rickman had followed sedately, frowning at his assistant. “Maybe you should have your leg checked, Bloom,” he suggested. “We can't have someone assist you every time you walk down the stairs.”

“I was on my way to ask Geoffrey for Doctor Hamilton's phone number,” Orlando felt in his pocket and then looked around. “I seem to have dropped my mobile.”

“Here it is!” Isabel came down the stairs, stopping halfway down to pick the mobile up. Orlando accepted it from her with a murmur of thanks. 

“Geoffrey, why don't you take Orlando to the study so he can make his phone call to the doctor.” Devon suggested, then he turned to his wife. “Isabel, I didn't realise you were up yet. Let me drop you off at the pub so you can pick up your car.”

Isabel pulled a face but collected her jacket from the coat rack and followed her husband to the car. 

“This way, please, Orlando.” Geoffrey guided him to the study and after providing Orlando with Doctor Hamilton's phone number, he closed the door quietly behind him. 

 

*

Inspector Bana knocked on Eileen O'Hara's front door. The curtains were still closed, but considering she was a midwife and had probably been up during the night, it wasn't particularly odd.

When no one answered the door, he turned to Dominic and said, “Go around the back and see if there’s access to the house there.” Dominic nodded, moving quickly to carry out Eric’s order.

“Sir!” 

The sound of Dominic's voice, alerted Eric immediately and he hurried around to the back of the house. The curtains there were not entirely closed and he could clearly see the chaos in the room, but what was more disturbing was the unmoving woman lying face down on the floor. 

Dominic took off his jacket and wrapped it around his arm. With a swift jab of his elbow he shattered one of the windows in the back door, removed the glass and lifted the latch to gain them access to the kitchen.

He immediately pulled out his mobile to alert Doctor Boyd and then followed his boss inside. 

Eric pushed the door to the living room open without touching the handle. He stepped over documents and files scattered on the floor around the woman. Squatting down he reached out to feel her pulse, and then he noticed the dark pool beneath her head. 

With the curtains drawn at the front of the room and only slightly open at the back, there hadn't been enough light to see clearly. Now that he was closer to the body, Eric could see that her throat had been slit. 

He felt her wrist to be certain, but there was no way she could have survived such a brutal attack. 

When Dominic appeared in the doorway, Eric shook his head, indicating the woman was deceased and they both retreated to the kitchen, waiting there for the Forensic team to arrive. 

“Judging by the state of the living room, someone obviously had the same idea we had,” Eric stated. “Besides the filing cabinet, nothing seems to have been touched.”

“We're going to treat this as being related to the murders at Lyndon Hall then?” Dom inquired.

Eric raised his eyebrows, surprised he’d have to explain the connection. “After we decided we should talk to Eileen O'Hara we find her dead, murdered just like Lily. It's too much of a coincidence to discard that fact.”

Dom hung his head. “Someone opened the door of the nanny's room while we were there. I should have locked it.”

“Yes, you should have,” Eric agreed. “But don't beat yourself up about it, neither of us thought of it. We are dealing with a very cunning murderer here.”

 

A couple of minutes later Doctor Boyd and his team descended on the house and he shook his head when he took in the sight in the living room. “Vicious...” he commented. “Very vicious.” 

Dom's mobile rang and he stepped out into the garden to answer it, he had quite a long discussion with the person on the other end but finally came back inside to find his boss. 

“Sir,” he called out to Eric.

Eric looked up and noticed the annoyed expression on Dominic's face. “What's wrong?”

Dom lifted his mobile. “That was Orlando Bloom,” he started. “He says he needs to speak to you as soon as possible. When I told him you were otherwise engaged, he said he would never bother you if it wasn't important.” Dominic rolled his eyes.

Eric frowned. “After the way we parted yesterday, I am certain it _is_ important or he wouldn't have called. He wasn't exactly happy with my questions. I’ll go to Lyndon Hall as soon as we're finished here.”

Dominic huffed in annoyance. Orlando Bloom had been more than a handful and he still wasn't entirely convinced he was innocent. “You might want to ask him where he was last night,” he muttered. 

“Oh I will,” Eric said over his shoulder, well aware that his Sergeant wasn't too charmed by Orlando Bloom. 

“Inspector, over here!” Doctor Boyd motioned to him as soon as Eric returned to the living room. The body of Eileen O'Hara had now been removed. 

The doctor held something that looked like paper in his gloved hand. “This was found under the body,” he told Eric and put it in the plastic bag his assistant held open for him. 

When Eric took a closer look he felt an icy hand close around his heart. “Monaghan!” He motioned furiously at his Sergeant. 

Confused by his boss' sudden agitation, Dominic hurried towards him.

“Look at this.” Eric had taken the bag from the assistant and held it out to Dominic.

Despite the large blood stain on the photograph, Dominic immediately recognized the smiling face of the toddler on it. 

“Orlando Bloom!” 

“Doctor?” Eric turned back to Doctor Boyd. “When was she killed?”

“Somewhere between eight and ten last night,” Doctor Boyd replied. 

Looking at the activity in and around Eileen O'Hara's house, the Inspector made a decision. “You stay here,” he told Dominic. “Make sure all documents, files, and anything that's still left in that filing cabinet is taken to the station. I'm going to Lyndon Hall to talk to Orlando. We need to get to the bottom of this!”

Before Dom could reply, his boss had jumped in the car and sped off. 

*

After making his calls, Orlando joined Professor Rickman in the library. The professor was still working on tracking Monkfish sons born with the birthmark. 

“Ah Bloom, there you are,” Professor Rickman greeted him. “After the younger twin you found with the birthmark in 1806, I've found no other first born son with it, or even any mention of the birthmark. I've reached 1899, the birth year of Lord Edmund's grandfather and there's nothing to suggest they knew of a birthmark.”

Orlando hesitated briefly, then he limped to his own seat and opened his laptop, quickly accessing the correct site. “Maybe, because it skipped a few sons, it was eventually forgotten,” he remarked. “When are you going to tell Lord Edmund?”

Professor Rickman pressed a key on his keyboard and the printer started to hum. “Lord Edmund is currently with Lady Millicent but he asked for an update and I'm due to see him in about ten minutes. I'm printing the notes we found to show him the evidence.”

“I bet he's going to check himself after your conversation,” Orlando muttered quietly, Professor Rickman heard him anyway.

“Have you considered that he knows he has a birthmark, just not that it is something that is inherited and historically verified?” the Professor remarked.

“He should probably be able to tell whether Devon has one too...” Orlando said almost to himself.

Professor Rickman glared at him before collecting his papers and leaving the library.

Orlando waited until the door had closed behind the Professor before he shoved his chair back. He grabbed his notebooks and moved to a chair where he could keep an eye on both doors giving entrance to the library, then he went back for his laptop. He made a final trip to retrieve the books he had been working with just as the door opened.

Orlando dropped the books as fast as he could onto the table and turned to face whoever was entering the library.

 

*

Eric drove up to Lyndon Hall and parked his car at the bottom of the steps. Taking them two at a time he knocked on the door and waited impatiently until it was opened by the butler.

“Mr Bloom is expecting me,” he told Geoffrey, who nodded and escorted him to the library.

Geoffrey opened the door of the library for Eric and allowed him to enter, before closing the door behind him again.

Eric noticed immediately that something was wrong. The way Orlando faced him, holding his crutch tightly, the way the books he had seen him handle quite reverently, were balancing on the edge of the table and the look on his face, alarmed Eric.

“Orlando?” he said calmly, holding out his hands. “What's wrong?” 

Releasing his breath audibly, Orlando slowly sank down onto the chair, automatically pushing the books further on the table.

Eric walked closer, keeping an eye on the other man, concerned by his odd behaviour.

“You startled me,” Orlando said almost accusingly.

Raising his eyebrows, Eric took a chair beside Orlando and moved it until he could face him. “You called and asked to speak to me.”

Orlando brushed the dark curls that had escaped the elastic band impatiently out of his eyes, but Eric noticed his hand was shaking.

He pulled his chair a little closer to Orlando, their knees almost touching. “There's obviously something wrong, Orlando. Talk to me.”

Orlando nodded. “I'm scared,” he murmured quietly. He motioned at the books on the table and then to the corner where he had set up his work area.

Not understanding, Eric leaned forward. “What are you trying to say, Orlando? What are you scared of?” He looked at the pile of books. “These books need to go there?” Eric motioned at the corner.

Orlando nodded. 

“I'll give you a hand,” Eric grabbed the books and waited for Orlando to stand up and then they moved to the corner of the library. He hoped retreating to the corner would make it easier for Orlando to talk. 

Eric put the books down beside Orlando's laptop and pulled the chair back so Orlando could sit down.

“Thank you,” Orlando gave him a small smile as he sat down and then he looked to the door on his right. “Could you check that it's closed?” he asked Eric.

“Good idea,” Eric murmured, but when Orlando looked at him in question, he just nodded and made sure the door was tightly closed. “It's okay, no one can come in unnoticed.”

Orlando slumped in his chair and then he started to talk. “This morning my leg was bothering me quite a lot and I decided to go downstairs to ask Geoffrey for Doctor Hamilton's phone number. I always hold on to the banister in case my leg suddenly gives out, you understand?”

Eric nodded.

“I was a good few steps down, when I suddenly fell forward. I lost my crutch and only just managed to hang on to the banister. Luckily Professor Rickman came to my rescue and helped me regain my balance. I could continue on my way down after Geoffrey returned my crutch. It had bounced down the stairs with a lot of noise, alerting the entire house that something was going on.” 

Having held his breath at the first mention of Orlando’s near accident, Eric quietly expelled it. “Why do I have a feeling this is not the entire story?”

“Correctly deduced, you _are_ a detective,” Orlando tried to joke. “I didn't just suddenly lose my balance, Inspector Bana, I was pushed. I haven't told anyone else and I can only account for two people who didn't do it and it scares hell out of me to know that someone wants to... get me out of the way.”

“Okay, first things first.” Eric said and he couldn't stop himself from taking hold of Orlando's hand. “Are you physically okay?” 

“Apart from my leg, which wasn't too brilliant to begin with, I'm fine,” Orlando assured him. “But I'm scared shitless.”

Eric squeezed his hand. “I understand that. Let's get the facts down.”

Orlando raised his eyebrows. “You actually believe me then?” he asked in surprise.

“I have no reason not to. Even if our interaction hasn’t always been amenable. You've never lied to me,” Eric assured him. “Who are the two people that you know for certain didn't do it?” he asked as he pulled his notebook out of his pocket. The plastic bag, containing the photograph, came out with it, but Eric put it face down on the table; that was for later. 

“I saw Devon leaving through the front door and Geoffrey on his way to the kitchen. I could see them both very clearly from the top of the stairs.”

“Okay,” Eric made a note of that. “Who turned up at the top of the stairs after you were pushed, besides Professor Rickman?”

Orlando thought briefly. “A couple of the staff, I'm not really familiar with them. John Smith, Lord Edmund's secretary and Isabel, Devon's wife.” He frowned. “But would the person who did it, show himself? Why not just stay hidden until all commotion is over with?”

“Quite often a killer will be very arrogant. This person in particular seems to be extremely arrogant in his ability to do whatever he wants. He feels confident that he won't be discovered and therefore there is no need to hide.” Eric explained, his knowledge coming from years of experience with murderers who all had one thing in common; they were all too arrogant to think they would get caught. 

“Orlando, you asked to see me, but beside that, there is another reason for me to be here. Can you please tell me where you were last night between eight and ten?” Eric tried to ask without revealing the urgency he felt.

Orlando pulled his hand out of Eric's. “Have you found new evidence to accuse me of murdering Lily and the nanny?” he sneered bitterly. 

With a sigh Eric sat back in his chair. “No, we haven't, but I hope you will tell me anyway.”

Orlando shrugged and turned back to his laptop, angrily typing something without really knowing what. “I was here all night, having dinner with Devon as we both were at a loose end and wanted some company. He was with me from the moment you and your sergeant left – you saw us – until approximately half past ten. Devon, Cook, and Geoffrey can all confirm this.”

“Have you ever heard the name Eileen O'Hara?” Eric asked, paying close attention to Orlando's face. 

There was no visible reaction. “No, it doesn't ring a bell. Should I know her?”

Eric took the plastic bag with the photograph from the table. “I honestly don't know, Orlando, you tell me.” He turned the plastic bag over and pushed it across the table toward Orlando. “We found her body this morning, she was murdered, and this...” He pointed at the photograph. “Was found under her body.”

Orlando picked the bag up from the table and looked closely at the photograph, then his eyes widened and he looked at Eric incredulously. “That's a picture of me! Who _is_ this woman?”

“Eileen O'Hara was a midwife. Maybe you should ask your mother if she knows her, because how else could she have obtained a photo of you as a toddler if your mother didn't send it to her.”

“I told you yesterday that my mother has nothing to do with this!” Orlando snapped. 

Eric pointed at the picture. “Would it really be so terrible to ask her if she ever sent this photo of you to Eileen O'Hara?”

Orlando turned to face him, his dark eyes unreadable. “Why can't you leave things alone? My mother has been dead for seven years. I can't ask her anything anymore!”

Now Eric understood Orlando's anger at his insistence. “I am sorry, Orlando, I truly am. But I really need to know... Was her first name Hannah?”

“How do you know that?” Orlando asked in shock. “Yes, her name was Hannah.”

Eric nodded. “Somehow this is all connected to you.” He immediately held up his hands when Orlando opened his mouth, probably to object. “I don't mean that you are the murderer. But finding your mother's first name in Rose Pendleton's diary, your date of birth, the photograph found in the midwife's house... We can't ignore those facts.”

Orlando let out a shaky breath. “No, I guess not. But I have no idea what the connection is. I've never been here before. I didn't know Rose, I've never seen Lord Edmund... Hang on.” He frowned thoughtfully.

“What? What is it? Do you remember something?” Eric prodded, hoping for something, anything that could help move the case forward.

“When I introduced myself to Lord Edmund, he said _'You seem familiar, have we met before?'_ I didn't think anything of it at the time, but now...”

Eric nodded. “Maybe I should have a chat with Lord Edmund and ask him why he thought you seemed familiar.” Eric leaned forward in his chair, taking the photograph from Orlando and tucking it in his pocket again. “You know what this means, don't you?” he asked.

Orlando looked at him a little blankly. “I'm no longer a suspect? Something I have repeatedly asked you to confirm.”

Eric's mouth curved in a little grin. “I think I can safely say that for me you are no longer a suspect.” Then his face turned sombre. “You have to realize you're in serious danger, though. There has been one attempt on hurting you or worse already. Is there anywhere else you can stay until your work is finished here?”

 

Orlando shook his head. “Not really, I think Professor Rickman would have a fit if I wasn't available whenever he wanted me.”

“Dammit!” Eric jumped up, his frustration suddenly bubbling over and startling Orlando. “I don't want it to be _your_ body that's found next, Orlando!” He turned away from the other man, jamming his hands into his pockets to keep him from taking Orlando into his arms and holding him safe. 

Orlando reached for his crutch and pushed himself to his feet, limping over to Eric standing in front of the window.

“Inspector Bana... Eric?” Orlando pulled at Eric's jacket sleeve to get him to turn and face him. “Why are you so... distressed? This is your job.”

“This time is different.” Eric shrugged uncomfortably. “ _This_ time I've become personally involved. As much as I try to stay professional, it's become very difficult where you're concerned,” he confessed.

“You have a strange way of showing it,” Orlando said with a little grin. He immediately shook his head. “Just joking. You're a handsome man, Eric and I can't deny my attraction to you, but right now I think I need to keep my wits about me.”

Eric nodded. “Very sensible. You may want to thump me for this, but your disability makes you vulnerable and that's what worries me,” Eric explained to Orlando. 

“I'm not going to thump you for something that I am all too aware of myself. After this morning I'm forewarned. I will keep my eyes and ears open and I will try not to be on my own. Believe it or not but despite my disability I've always been able to take care of myself.”

Eric reached out, his hand touching Orlando's shoulder, slowly sliding down his arm. “I don't doubt it. Doesn't mean that I wish I could... well... you know...” Eric ended a little awkwardly. 

“I know,” Orlando murmured, as their hands slid into each other briefly gripping tightly and then letting go. “I've already admitted that I'm scared, but I still have to live here for another week or so. I can't let it get to me, Eric!” His voice raised as he realized his predicament.

This time Eric let go of his restraint and pulled Orlando into his arms, forgetting briefly about his leg. Orlando stumbled awkwardly but ended up safely held in his arms anyway.

“Is there someone here you trust implicitly?” Eric asked, happy to hold Orlando and offer at least a little comfort. 

Orlando shrugged. “I don't know anyone well enough, but I've been getting on really well with Geoffrey and at least I know _he_ wasn't the one who pushed me.”

“Okay, then we should-” Eric started but was interrupted by a knock on the door and Geoffrey entered the library.

“Excuse me Inspector, Orlando, the physiotherapist has arrived,” Geoffrey announced without even blinking at the rather intimate scene he had walked into.

Orlando slowly pulled away from Eric and nodded. “Thank you, Geoffrey. Would you come in and close the door for a moment?”

* 

Flanked by Eric and Geoffrey, Orlando slowly walked into the hallway to meet with the physiotherapist. He saw a tall dark-haired man with glasses, holding a bag and looking up at the painted scenes on the ceiling.

“Karl?” Eric suddenly hurried towards the man.

“Hey Eric, how's the shoulder?” 

Orlando watched Eric roll his left shoulder and then smile brightly at the other man, surprised at the sudden stab of jealousy he felt.

“Not the slightest bit of pain anymore, you did a great job.” Eric told him. “Are you here to see Orlando?” 

A confused look crossed the man's face. “Who? I'm here to see a Mr Bloom.”

Eric nodded. “That's Orlando.”

Orlando and Geoffrey had now reached the two men and Eric introduced them. “Orlando Bloom, meet Karl Urban. If he can't make your leg feel a bit better, then no one can.”

Unprepared for his feelings of jealousy, Orlando just shrugged. “We'll see,” he muttered. He didn't miss the strange look Eric gave him. 

“Do you want me to accompany you upstairs, sir?” Geoffrey asked him politely.

Orlando shook his head. “Thanks Geoffrey, I'll be careful.”

“I'm sure Karl can lend a hand, should you need it,” Eric suggested, looking from Karl to Orlando.

“Sure,” the physiotherapist nodded, pushing his glasses up his nose. “It was great seeing you again, Eric. Good luck with the shoulder,” he added. 

Eric smiled and clapped Karl on the shoulder. “It was, we need to have a drink soon,” he agreed.

“We'd better get going, it'll take me a while to get upstairs,” Orlando said shortly to Karl. “Goodbye Inspector, thank you for coming over,” he nodded at a decidedly bemused Eric and then started to climb the stairs. 

Karl rolled his eyes at Eric and then followed Orlando up the stairs. 

 

Still pondering about Orlando's out of character behaviour, Eric was about to ask Geoffrey to take him to Lord Edmund when the door behind them opened and Devon and Isabel came in. Devon carrying a sports bag.

“I'm not going to get a tattoo, Isabel,” he grumbled. “You've obviously been staring at those macho guys at the gym for too long.”

Isabel grimaced and glanced at Eric in embarrassment. “It was just a joke, Devon. I had no idea you were so opposed to tattoos.” She took the bag from her husband. “At least my car is back and I've got my stuff here again. Thanks, darling.” She quickly kissed him on the cheek and then ran up the stairs. 

“Women!” Devon sighed deeply and turned to Eric. “What can I do for you Inspector?”

“I need to speak to your father for a moment,” Eric replied and Devon nodded. 

“Geoffrey can take you to him, Inspector,” he motioned to the butler before he too headed up the stairs. 

Eric stopped him. “One question, if you don't mind. Can you tell me your date and place of birth?” 

Devon didn't seem surprised by the question. “Of course, Inspector. I was born on January 13th, 1985, here at Lyndon Hall.”

Eric looked surprised. “Not in the hospital?”

Devon shook his head. “Apparently there was a severe snow storm and it was impossible for my mother to get to the hospital.”

“Thank you,” Eric replied thoughtfully. This information changed everything, he needed time to think things over very carefully. There was something else first though and Eric turned to the butler who had been patiently waiting for him to finish. “Would you take me to Lord Edmund now, please?”

“This way, sir.”

*

On his way up the stairs, Orlando already regretted letting his jealousy get the better of him. The physiotherapist had greeted Eric like anyone would a former patient, enquiring after his health, or in this case Eric's shoulder. 

Eric's very warm smile towards Karl Urban had affected Orlando, unrealistically he wanted that smile just for himself. However, there wasn't anything between Eric and himself. “I'm an arse,” he muttered.

“What was that?” the man climbing the stairs beside him asked.

Orlando shook his head. “Nothing. I'm sorry, I've just had a few rather... exhausting days.”

Karl Urban nodded. “I've heard a bit and seen the newspapers about the things that have happened here, that would certainly take its toll, emotionally and physically.” 

Isabel passed them on the stairs and nodded at them and moments later when they reached the top of the stairs, Devon arrived there too. “Are you okay, Orlando?” he asked as he nodded a greeting at the physiotherapist. “Your leg giving you grief due to this morning's fall?” 

“I'm afraid so. Mr Urban was kind enough to come to the house to see if he can relieve the pain.” Orlando replied, appreciating Devon's interest. 

Devon squeezed Orlando's arm. “I hope he can. Thank you for coming over, Mr Urban,” he added before quickly moving on. “See you later, Orlando!” he called as he headed up the second stairwell leading to Lady Millicent's rooms.

“Nice guy,” Karl commented as they reached Orlando's room.

“He is,” Orlando agreed and opened the door to his room. “Don't take it the wrong way, but how do you want me?” he said flippantly, gesturing Karl inside. 

Karl laughed out loud and pulled a towel from his bag, and then pointed at the bed. “I like a man with a sense of humour. On your back on the bed, trousers and socks off—and that's not a proposition either.”

This made Orlando grin and he pushed his trousers down before sitting on the edge of the bed to take trousers and socks off. Then he lay down on the towel Karl had spread out on the bed. 

“Glad to see this bed is high enough. I did contemplate bringing my portable massage table.” Karl said as he expertly examined the muscles in Orlando's leg. He pressed against a particular point and Orlando grimaced in pain. “What exactly happened this morning?” Karl enquired. “You fell?”

Orlando nodded. “Yeah, on the stairs, lost my crutch, managed to hang on to the banister and slipped down a few steps until someone stopped my fall.” 

Karl nodded. “That explains the incredible tightness of the muscles. The fall and the shock of falling have had a double impact on them. How’s your arm?”

Orlando shrugged. “It's not too bad, a little sore but that’s all. My leg is a lot worse.”

“Okay then I'll concentrate on your leg.” Karl turned and picked up his bag, taking out a bottle of lotion. He set the bag on the floor and poured some lotion into his hand, and then began to massage Orlando's leg from the thigh down to his foot. After a while he nudged Orlando. “You can turn over now.”

Orlando turned onto his front and again Karl started at the top of his thigh. “That's an odd mark,” he murmured, but apparently not loud enough for Orlando to hear and he continued working his way down Orlando’s leg again. 

“Eric is a nice guy, isn't he?” Karl remarked after a long silence.

Starting out of the drowse he’d slipped into, Orlando was suddenly wide awake. “Yeah?!” He gasped when Karl rotated his foot before settling it on the bed and patting Orlando's calf to let him know he was finished.

“A great detective, but a softy,” he nodded. “Where can I wash my hands?”

Orlando pointed at the bathroom. “There's a clean towel beside the sink.” He sat up and grabbed for his trousers. “I don't know him that well, he seems okay.”

The physiotherapist chuckled. “You could've fooled me!”

Orlando looked up in alarm from pulling his socks on. “What do you mean?”

“Man, your eyes were spitting fire downstairs when I first got here,” Karl grinned. 

Orlando bent forward to tie his shoe laces and hide his confusion. Why could this man see what he felt for Eric when it wasn't even clear to himself? 

“Sorry,” Karl apologised. “Didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable. It's obvious that he cares a great deal for you.”

Orlando raised his head in surprise. “How do you know?” Either Karl Urban was very observant or he was particularly dense. Of course he had noticed Eric was attracted to him, same as he was to Eric, but that didn't say anything about someone's feelings.

Karl lifted his bag from the floor, stuffing the towel into it and waiting for Orlando to be ready to leave. “I could tell by the way he looked at you. Are you going downstairs as well?”

Orlando nodded, deep in thought. “Yeah, I have to get back to work,” he finally answered. He grabbed his crutch and followed Karl out of the room. “Will you come again?” he asked the physiotherapist.

“Sure. Day after tomorrow, so you can see what effect the massage has had?” Karl suggested.

“Sounds like a plan. I did intend to take the muscle relaxants Doctor Hamilton gave me tonight, that's okay isn't it?” he asked Karl.

“Yes, after your fall it would definitely be wise to take them, your leg may feel bruised in the morning anyway, not just from the fall but the massage as well. Don't hesitate to take something then too, as long as you don't take more than the doctor has prescribed.”

They had reached the hallway and Orlando turned to Karl, shaking his hands. “Thanks for coming out at such short notice, I appreciate it. Same time on Thursday?”

Karl nodded. “I'll check my diary at the office, if I can't make it I'll give you a call.”

Geoffrey had appeared from somewhere and showed Karl out, then he turned to Orlando. “Shall I accompany you to the library?”

With a grateful smile, Orlando nodded. It wasn't that he was scared... he was just being careful.

* 

“What can you tell us, Doctor?” Eric asked as soon as he stepped into the Pathology Lab.

Doctor Boyd folded back the sheet covering the midwife's body. “Her throat was slit, and she bled to death. 

DS Monaghan shuddered. “What did the killer use? I doubt it was an ordinary kitchen knife.” 

Doctor Boyd shook his head. “Her throat was sliced open with a scalpel. One of Ms O'Hara's own I dare say. It's standard equipment for a midwife. We have found only the unused ones in her bag though.”

They were about to leave when the doctor called them back. “I have the results from the fibres found under Rose Pendleton's finger nails.” He shook his head. “Dark blue wool, nothing special, comes from a sweater sold by the dozens, apparently.”

“Thanks, Doctor,” Eric said and he left the Pathology Lab, Dominic following right behind him. 

“A spur of the moment murder?” Dom asked as they got into the car. 

“I doubt it. I'm quite sure whoever is behind all this, came prepared.” Eric replied. “I think a better weapon presented itself and the killer took advantage of it.” He sighed, a worried frown on his face. “This killer is ruthless. There is a reason for all these murders and we need to find that reason. As soon as he we know _why_ this is happening we have our murderer.” 

“Did Mr Bloom have anything interesting to tell you?” his DS asked as he started the car.

Eric nodded. “As a matter of fact he did, and so did Devon Monkfish, only Lord Monkfish wasn't as helpful as I'd hoped.”

“Now you've made me curious,” Dom glanced sideways at his boss before pulling out of the parking space. 

Eric chuckled. “That usually doesn't take much. Orlando revealed that his mother's first name is indeed Hannah. She _must_ be the 'Hannah' mentioned in the diary.”

Dom thumped his fist on the steering wheel. “I knew it!” he crowed triumphantly. “I bet they're in it together. She’s his accomplice. She must be the cook, a perfect alibi, and would totally go unnoticed when approaching Lily...”

“Dom-” Eric started.

“Being seen with the nanny wouldn't seem strange either and she could have held her while Orlando strangled her...”

“Monaghan-” Eric was beginning to get annoyed. 

“I wonder if he really thought they could get away with it. Getting the midwife distracted shouldn't have been too difficult and-”

“SERGEANT!!!” 

The roar finally seemed to penetrate Dominic's victorious monologue and he stomped on the breaks in reflex and looked around frantically. “What? What's wrong?”

Eric rolled his eyes and sighed. “It would be nice if you could curb your enthusiasm just a bit, Monaghan,” he admonished his sergeant. 

“I've got the case almost solved! We’ve suspected Orlando from the beginning and we knew he couldn't have done it alone. With the help of his mother it's all clear.” Dom shrugged and put the car in motion again.

“Orlando's mother passed away seven years ago...” Eric enlightened his DS, shattering the man's deduction skills with just a little bit of glee. 

“Are you sure?” DS Monaghan was not prepared to give up on his well-thought-out solution. 

Eric nodded. “I've had it checked.” He glanced sideways at Dom. “Do you know why Orlando wanted to see me?”

Still sulking Dom shook his head. 

“He told me someone tried to push him down the stairs this morning.” Eric informed him.

Dom waved his hand and made a 'pfffft' noise. “Anyone can say that.”

Eric sighed and shook his head at Dom's persistence. “That there was an 'incident' that much is clear. It’s been confirmed by the butler, and apparently Professor Rickman stopped Orlando from falling. It wasn't 'just' a fall though.”

Dom scowled. “You have to admit that it all seems to lead back to Bloom.”

“Without a doubt, if only we knew why.” Eric agreed. “As we already suspected, Devon was also born on January 13th, 1985. What we didn't know however, is that he was born at Lyndon Hall and not in hospital.”

“And what..” Dom braked for a red light and then turned to face his boss. “What if Orlando was born at Lyndon Hall too? It's mighty odd that his place of birth isn't on his birth certificate, perhaps there is a reason for it?” 

Eric slowly nodded his head. “What could have possibly happened that day at Lyndon Hall that made Rose Pendleton lose most of her marbles and why are those apparently involved, being killed now, so many years later?”

“Because they were considered a threat?” Dom suggested.

“Very likely, but a threat to whom?” Eric wondered. “Rose and Eileen were directly involved in whatever happened and Lily was involved by association.” He dragged his hand through his hair in frustration. “In her diary Rose mentions another woman. We don't know who she is and we can only hope the killer doesn't know either or she may be in danger as well.”

Then he looked up and nudged Dom. “The light has changed.”

Dom drove on with a frown on his face. “Is there anything else that stands out in that diary, something that seems strange?”

“Yes, it's something that I've been thinking of the whole time and I can't for the life of me figure out what it means. She wrote on the 13th of January: _If only Hannah hadn't gone into labour on the same day as Lady Alice, or if one of the babies had been a girl..._ ” 

Dom rolled his eyes. “What the hell? That woman has been daft from the start! That's not exactly something you have any say in.”

“I don't know, but I don't think that's what she means. To me it looks as if the fact that the babies were born on the same day _and_ were both boys, is what caused something to go wrong,” Eric voiced his own thoughts. “This case is giving me a headache,” he sighed. “And I have a feeling there was something else in that diary that I can't remember right now, but is very important...” 

Dom pulled up in front of the police station and turned the engine off. “Maybe with the knowledge of the baby or babies being born at Lyndon Hall it'll make more sense if you read it again.”

Eric pointed at him. “That's the smartest thing you've said all day,” he remarked, before getting out of the car.

“Thanks a bunch,” Dom grumbled and got out as well, closing the door a little harder than necessary. 

With a grin Eric disappeared into the station. 

*

“Ah Bloom, you took your time!” Professor Rickman motioned for him to sit down as quickly as possible and Orlando limped to the nearest chair, even if sitting with his back to the door made him feel uncomfortable. 

“I've had a talk with Lord Monkfish and told him about my discovery of the birthmark. As I suspected he had no idea that it was something of a common occurrence in his lineage, but he knew he had one and showed it to me.” Professor Rickman was obviously proud.

“What about Devon? Does he have the mark too?” Orlando enquired. 

Professor Rickman shrugged. “Lord Monkfish doesn't remember if it was ever mentioned by his wife or the nanny, but he suggested I ask Devon himself.”

“So despite there being no mention of the birthmark for about one hundred and seventy years it might still have been there on every first born son,” Orlando concluded. 

“That appears to be the case,” Professor Rickman agreed.

Orlando stood and moved to his own corner to do some more work, he couldn't help being curious to know whether Devon had the mark as well. Maybe he should ask him, out of professional curiosity of course. 

 

*

Eric had picked up some take-away on the way home, intending on a quiet night and getting back into Rose Pendleton's diary to see if, with their newly acquired information, he could make sense of some of Rose's entries this time. 

He settled himself at the dinner table with a beer and his meal and the diary. Eric opened the diary and started reading. He was certain that something written at the beginning, when Rose had just arrived at Lyndon Hall, was of vital importance.

Eating without much attention for his food, he kept reading the first few entries over and over again, but didn't see anything that triggered an alarm bell.

Annoyed Eric closed the diary, put his plate and glass in the sink. He decided to take a shower, relax and not think of the case for a bit. 

Not thinking of the case was easier said then done, because he couldn't get Orlando out of his mind. Although he _could_ think of Orlando in a way that was much more pleasurable and hadn't anything to do with the case. 

He stripped off his clothes in the bathroom and adjusted the water in the shower to an acceptable temperature. 

Water cascaded down his body, Eric quickly washed his hair and then his body, his hand unerringly straying to his already half hard cock.

Orlando. His long dark curls, the passionate brown eyes, that soft mouth... Apparently Eric's cock liked the thought of Orlando's mouth because it grew harder and throbbed in his hand. Eric had to admit that the thought of Orlando's mouth wrapped around his cock was a very appealing one.

He moaned and sped up his movement, thrusting into his hand, picturing Orlando on his knees looking up at him with a mischievous look in his eyes. That image took Eric over the edge and he groaned Orlando's name as he climaxed. 

Feeling much better, Eric finished his shower, quickly dried himself and dressed in grey tracksuit bottoms and walked bare chested to the kitchen to make himself some coffee. 

With a mug of hot coffee in his hand he went back to the living room, picked up the diary from the table and settled in his favourite chair, determined to figure out what Rose Pendleton's mysterious entries meant. 

The diary fell open in his lap and Eric unconsciously read the entry that was on the opened page. 

_The Gypsy is back, I have seen him with my own eyes. Is he here to take revenge on us? I know it is him. The picture that Hannah had sent to Eileen was of a three year old, but I would recognize him anywhere._

“At least we know she means Orlando,” Eric muttered to himself. Having found the photograph the nanny mentioned in the entry made that clear. 

He leafed back to the first few entries; he just knew there was something he had missed, something very important to their case. 

 

_Met Lady Millicent. She is very unpleasant. Servants shouldn't breathe the same air as she is, shouldn't be heard or seen and definitely not be treated like human beings. And she can't stand imperfection!_

“Lady Millicent can't stand imperfection,” Eric muttered, trying to see what it was that Rose meant. “She can't stand imperfection... She probably would call Orlando imperfect... but who cares, he's Hannah's child not Lady Alice's.”

_Eileen says it was the only way to save the child, but I can't believe that woman would hurt him._

“Dammit woman!” Eric grumbled. “Why are you being so cryptic. Which woman? Lady Alice? Lady Millicent?”

Eric read and reread the entry and could only come to one conclusion. Eileen and Rose were apparently afraid that one of the two women would hurt Devon and they had done something to save his life, but what? 

He threw the diary on the table and decided it was time for bed, tomorrow was another day.

 

Early the next morning Eric was woken up by his mobile ringing persistently. “Bana.” He listened and then replied. “I'll be right there.”

Twenty minutes later Eric was on his way to Lyndon Hall.

 

*

Orlando woke up feeling reasonably rested, even his leg didn't feel too bad. Karl's massage had definitely helped and Karl's words, about Eric caring for him, had played around in his head long after he had gone to bed and for the first time in days the horrific events of the past week hadn't been the first thing he thought of on opening his eyes in the morning. 

Still, it didn't make him feel any less apprehensive about being alone at any time in Lyndon Hall. His experience on the stairs the day before had given him quite a scare and not only that, the thought that someone wished to harm him was a huge shock to the system.

When Orlando left his room he noticed an unusual amount of activity going on for so early in the morning. 

Geoffrey, who was giving orders, paused and came over to him. “Orlando, I was on my way to see you. Lady Millicent passed away during the night and the family is quite distraught. Doctor Hamilton is apparently suspicious about the suddenness and has sent for your Inspector Bana and the doctor who examined Lily and Rose.”

“Lady Millicent too?” Orlando shook his head in disbelief. “Please give my condolences to the family.” He shrugged uncomfortably. “I hope the doctor is wrong... I should go and find Professor Rickman—stay out of the way. Do you know if he’s in the library?”

Geoffrey nodded. “Yes, he’s been there for some time already. I will have breakfast brought there for you.” He nodded at the stairs. “Will you be all right?” 

“I’m sure I’ll be fine,” Orlando said, there were enough people around. “Thank you, Geoffrey.” He limped to the stairs and held on tight to the banister, sighing with relief when he made it downstairs without incident.

There was a knock on the front door and with no staff around, Orlando decided no one would mind if he opened the door. Outside stood Inspector Bana, his Sergeant, the doctor, and his team. Orlando recognized the doctor from seeing him when he had found Lily's body. 

“Orlando!” Inspector Bana seemed surprised to see him.

“Inspector, gentlemen,” Orlando greeted them. “I’m afraid everyone is a bit out of sorts, you will find the butler in the upstairs corridor if you need him.”

The Inspector motioned for his Sergeant to go ahead, followed by Doctor Boyd and his team, he stayed behind with Orlando. “I’ll join you shortly,” he told his hesitating Sergeant. “Were you on your way to the library?” he asked Orlando and at his nod the Inspector continued. “Let me walk you there.”

“Are you here because of Lady Millicent's death?” Orlando asked, wanting to hear it from Eric himself. 

“What do you know about that?” the Inspector asked, he couldn't entirely suppress his professional suspicion at the question.

Orlando shrugged. “Just what Geoffrey told me, that Lady Millicent passed away and Doctor Hamilton seems to think it might not be a natural death.” They had reached the library and Orlando opened the door, finding Professor Rickman already busy sketching the first outline of the family tree. 

“Bloom, you're late! Ah the Inspector again, I suppose it's his fault,” Professor Rickman greeted them. 

“I'm sorry Professor,” Orlando apologised. “The Inspector is here at Lord Monkfish's request.”

Professor Rickman waved dismissively, apparently not interested. “Better get started. I will need you to find the right colours for the Monkfish Shield and Crest.”

Eric had been looking at the paintings hanging in the library while Rickman spoke to Orlando, and he frowned just as Orlando moved to stand in front of the painting of Lord Edmund, Lady Alice, and young Devon.

“What's wrong?” Orlando asked, turning to face Eric and noticing his frown. He took a step forward when the Inspector suddenly paled and shook his head violently. 

“I'm all right, haven't had breakfast yet,” Eric replied quickly with an odd look at Professor Rickman. “I’d better go and find Lord Monkfish now. I’ll speak to you later, Orlando.” He quickly walked to the door of the library. “Goodbye, Professor.”

The Professor didn't react and the door closed behind Eric, leaving Orlando gaping after him.

“What the fuck was that all about?” Orlando muttered as he moved to his chair in the corner and pulled the book he needed from the pile in front of him.

After a last bemused look at the door, he opened the book and was soon engrossed in finding the right colours for the Monkfish Shield and Crest. 

 

*

Slightly out of breath, Eric joined Dominic and Doctor Boyd in Lady Millicent's room. His Sergeant looked at him and sidled over while Doctor Boyd was talking to Doctor Hamilton, with Lord Edmund, his son, and daughter-in-law standing around Lady Millicent's bed.

“What's wrong?” he asked, a little alarmed. 

Eric gave an unobtrusive shake of his head. “Not now!” he said through clenched teeth, alerting his Sergeant to the fact that something was seriously wrong. 

Watching the family – their grief seemed genuine enough, Eric pulled himself together and approached Lord Edmund to offer his condolences to him and his family.

“Inspector?” Lord Edmund pulled Eric away from the rest of his family. “Do you think it could be true? My mother was frail and her heart wasn't as strong as it used to be. Her death is not... unexpected.”

Eric nodded. “As much as it pains me to say, Milord, with what has happened these past few weeks and Doctor Hamilton's suspicions; I'd want to make very certain that your mother died of natural causes.”

Lord Edmund looked at him and sighed. “I understand, Inspector. Will you allow us a few moments with her?”

“Of course, Milord,” Eric nodded and signalled at the two doctors to leave the room. 

As soon as they stood outside with the door of Lady Millicent's room closed, Dominic stepped closer to his boss. “What the hell is going on?”

Eric shook his head. “I'm not taking any risks, Dom. Later, not here!” 

They hadn't been careful enough in the past and Eric wasn't taking any chances with Orlando's safety. 

 

*

Orlando rubbed his neck and winced when he shifted his leg. He'd been searching for the right colours for Professor Rickman to use for the Monkfish Shield for hours, but he really needed a break and to give his leg a bit of a stretch to loosen the muscles. 

“Professor?” 

Professor Rickman looked up from his sketches and he grimaced, apparently feeling the strain on his neck as well. “We deserve a break, Bloom. Go ahead,” he said, quite to Orlando's surprise.

“Thank you, sir. I’m going to take another dose of medication and have a lie down. I’ll be back in an hour or two, if that’s okay?” Orlando suggested.

Professor Rickman nodded and waved. “Yes, yes, fine. I'd like to get at least some of these done today and I need your help, but you can't do much now anyway, not until I've finished with the sketching.”

Orlando slowly made his way to the door, wondering if Eric was still around and whether Lady Millicent had really been murdered as well. 

Geoffrey came to him as soon as he left the library and accompanied him upstairs, promising to bring Orlando some tea and cake. 

Orlando took a dose of his medication and gratefully sank down on the bed. After drinking his tea and eating some cake he wiggled down until he was comfortably settled and closed his eyes. 

The muscle relaxants always made him drowsy and a nap might do him good. 

*

Lady Millicent had been taken to the Pathology Lab and Doctor Boyd had delegated his other work, immediately starting on the autopsy. 

“I'll phone you as soon as I find anything, but in this case we may have to wait until toxicology is done and the results are in,” Doctor Boyd told Eric. 

“I understand.” Eric nodded. “I hope this is a false alarm.” He left the Lab with Dominic in his wake and they went back to the station. 

 

Eric still hadn't revealed anything of what he’d deduced to Dominic. He felt that at the station, in his own office, would be the safest place to share what he had discovered. 

He entered his office, motioned Dom inside and closed the door. 

“Finally,” Dom said as he sat on the edge of Eric's desk. 

“Okay,” Eric started. “I think I know what happened twenty-seven years ago, which leads me automatically to the killer. I'm ninety percent certain that it's Devon!”

“What?!” Dominic asked; Devon had been quite low on their list of suspects. “Are you sure?” he asked his boss. 

“No, not about the killer, as for what happened that day in January 1985, I think I know what they did.”

“They?” Dominic asked.

“Oh yes, they. Eileen and Rose were in it together, with much reluctance on Rose's part I'm sure of that. _But_...” Eric said the last word with emphasis. “But the instigator of the whole thing was Lady Millicent.”

“Lady Millicent?” Dom echoed. “Instigator? Of what exactly? You still haven't told me what actually happened twenty-seven years ago.”

Eric rolled his eyes at Dom's impatience. “I'm getting to that. Two babies were born on that fateful day, two boys, one of them had a deformity. Nothing spectacular, but Lady Millicent can't stand imperfection, especially not when it concerns her grandson.”

If it hadn't been such a serious matter, Eric would have laughed out loud at Dominic's face. His mouth opened and closed like a fish but no sound emerged. When he finally managed to pull himself together all he could say was— “Are you serious?”

Eric nodded. “Very serious. I will even go so far as to say that Lady Millicent must have threatened the baby's life in such a manner that the midwife took her very seriously and somehow, some way, she has switched the two babies with only the Nanny knowing that it was done.”

“You really believe that's what happened?” Dominic asked almost sliding off the desk in disbelief. 

“Today I accompanied Orlando to the library, remember?” Eric asked.

Dom nodded. 

“Professor Rickman engaged him in a conversation and I was looking around the library, taking a closer look at the huge paintings there of Lord Monkfish, his wife, and Devon at a very young age. Orlando turned towards me and that's when I saw it!” Eric told his Sergeant, only slightly teasing.

“What!” Dominic was not entirely unaware that his boss was dragging it out on purpose. 

“Orlando faced me, right in front of that portrait and that's when I noticed the resemblance to Lady Alice. I'm surprised no one else has noticed that... or maybe someone has,” he muttered thinking of the attack on Orlando's life. 

There was a knock on the door and WPC Hazel Brown opened it and looked inside. “Did you get that telephone call, Guv?” she asked, nodding at the phone on the desk. “Someone called just as you were on your way up so I asked them to wait, but I was called away before I could tell you.”

Both Eric and Dominic turned toward Eric's desk, with a large pile of files on the desk the receiver was hidden from view and they only now noticed it was lying beside the phone. 

Eric snatched up the phone. “Hello?” he snarled, then he looked up. “Gone. Who was it?” he asked the WPC. 

“Someone from Lyndon Hall, sir,” she said, her face showing her dismay. 

“Male? Female?” Eric growled.

“I don't know, sir. The voice was a bit muffled.” Hazel replied nervously.

Eric threw the receiver on the phone and hurried out the door. “Come on, Dom, Orlando’s in danger!” 

Dom rushed after his boss, pointing at two other officers to join them. 

 

* 

Eric pounded on the door and it was quickly opened by the butler. “Inspector? Is there something wrong?” he asked confused at seeing the inspector waiting agitatedly to get into the house. 

“Orlando, where is he?” Eric yelled, rushing past Geoffrey.

“In his room. Top of the stairs, fourth room on the left...” Geoffrey replied watching in alarm as the men hurried past him.

Eric rushed up the stairs, with Dominic and a couple of uniformed policemen right behind him, bursting through the door of Orlando's room without pause.

“Dom, come on!” Eric shouted as he took in the scene before him.

Orlando was in bed, with a pillow pressed over his face by a person clad all in black with a hood over his head kneeling astride Orlando. The attacker hadn’t even looked up at their arrival, he just kept leaning with his full weight on the pillow.

Eric could see Orlando had stopped struggling and he took a flying leap, grabbing the offender and rolled off the bed with him, holding on tight until the uniformed police officers could take the assailant away. 

Dom in the meantime pulled the pillow off of Orlando's face and felt for his pulse. He looked at Eric and shook his head...

“Call an ambulance!” Eric yelled as he pulled the pillow from under Orlando’s head and one of the uniformed officers radioed it in immediately. Dominic started heart massage and Eric began mouth to mouth. “Come on, Orlando! Dammit, breathe!” he pleaded between breaths.

Geoffrey had followed them upstairs and stood in the door opening, watching the activity in the room with wide, worried eyes. “Will he... be okay?” he asked quietly, not really addressing anyone.

There was no answer anyway, both men too intent on bringing Orlando back to life. 

With a gasp Orlando opened his eyes just as the paramedics were led into the room by another member of staff who had answered the door in Geoffrey’s absence. 

Eric showed them his badge and briefly explained what had happened. 

The paramedics put an oxygen mask on Orlando's face before checking his vitals.  
When the paramedics started to prepare him to take him to hospital he objected.

“I'm fine,” he said, reaching up with a shaky hand to pull the oxygen mask down. “I don't want to go anywhere until this is solved and then I never want to come back here again!”

Eric thought that _that_ wish, might be a bit difficult to stick with once Orlando knew everything, but he could understand the sentiment. “Is it really necessary for him to go to hospital?” Eric asked the paramedics, coming to Orlando's aid. 

The senior of the two paramedics shrugged. “We can't force him to go and his vital signs have returned to normal. His pulse is a little rapid, which is not uncommon in these situations. It’d be better if he would let us take him to get checked out, but we can’t make him. However, I do recommend he gets checked out by a doctor within the next twenty-four hours.”

Eric nodded. “All right, I promise he will see a Doctor today, just to make sure he really is okay. Thank you for coming out.”

The paramedics left and then Eric turned to Orlando's assailant, still being held by the two uniformed police officers. He stood very still, as if nothing around him affected him. 

“Now let's see who you are,” Eric said with more calm than he was feeling, and he pulled the hood off.

Dom's “Shit!” and Orlando's whispered “I don't believe it!” expressed Eric's own feelings completely. 

* 

Eric had asked for more police officers at Lyndon Hall. He wanted a thorough search of all the rooms again and that included Lady Millicent's rooms; they hadn’t been searched before. 

Lord Edmund had reluctantly allowed them entrance 

Some very interesting material had been uncovered and under Lady Millicent's bed they had found the fire poker that Eric believed was the weapon that had killed Lily Miles. 

His instincts about Lady Millicent seemed to prove correct, after one of the officers found some very revealing papers in her desk. 

After reading the documents, Eric was shocked to say the least and he regretted she had passed away because he would have liked to have given her a piece of his mind, Lady or not. The only good thing about the letters was that they also contained the proof of what had occurred so many years ago.

In the killer's room they found files belonging to Eileen O'Hara, the midwife. Eric didn't understand why they hadn't been burned, because with the notes the midwife had made and the letters from Lady Millicent, everything that had happened at Lyndon Hall on that night in January 1985 was now completely clear. 

* 

At the Inspector's request everyone gathered in the library. 

Professor Rickman wasn’t happy about it at all, especially since he had to stop working on his sketches, but at Inspector Bana’s insistence, he grudgingly gave in. 

Eric looked around the room. They were all there; Lord Edmund, Devon, Isabel, John Smith, Geoffrey, Cook, Professor Rickman, and Orlando. 

Doctor Hamilton had arrived at Eric's request; he had examined Orlando and told him to take it easy for the next couple of days. He stayed at Eric’s request in case someone reacted badly to any of the revelations about to be made. 

Karl Urban, the physiotherapist, would stop by later, the doctor told them, to see if Orlando needed additional treatment after his terrifying experience. 

Eric had positioned his police officers at the two doors, the window, and behind Orlando's attacker, he had told Orlando to sit in his own corner, he wasn't taking any chances.

Besides Geoffrey and Orlando, no one else knew who the killer was, because Eric wasn't convinced there was only one perpetrator. He wanted to see the faces and reactions of the other suspects when he revealed who had attacked Orlando and he had convinced Orlando's assailant that cooperating was the best option. 

Lord Edmund had also reluctantly agreed to be there, again emphasising that he found the timing, just after his mother had passed away, rather poor.

 

“I apologise, Milord,” Eric started. “I know this is a difficult time for you, but as there was a second attack on Orlando only a couple of hours ago and we have apprehended the assailant I feel it is prudent to end this now.” 

He was barely finished speaking when everyone started to talk at the same time, wanting to know what had happened to Orlando. 

Devon looked at Orlando with raised eyebrows and then at Eric. “Second attack, Inspector? When was the first?”

“I didn't fall down the stairs, Devon,” Orlando said quietly. “I was pushed.”

“Fuck man, why didn't you tell me?” Devon's choice of words gained him raised eyebrows from his father, but his shock seemed genuine. “What else?”

“Someone tried to smother him,” Eric said rather boldly, intending to shock. “When we arrived he was no longer breathing.” As he spoke he had walked to where Orlando sat and briefly squeezed his shoulder in reassurance, while still keeping a close eye on the gathered people. 

Everyone, except for Orlando's attacker, expressed their shock and disbelief and wanted to know who and why, until Eric raised a hand and asked for silence.

“What about my Lily?” John Smith asked quietly. “He was found next to her,” he said, pointing accusingly at Orlando. “Are you telling me he _didn't_ kill her?”

“That is exactly what I’m telling you, Mister Smith. Orlando did _not_ kill Lily. The fact that Rose Pendleton confided in her, made her a danger to the real killer. Afraid that Lily was going to tell us what she knew, the killer wanted to silence her before she could reveal anything.” Eric paced up and down beneath the large paintings of the Monkfish family, casting a glance at the audience listening intently to his words. “Fortunately for us, Lily managed to tell Orlando what had been on Rose Pendleton's mind in those days before her death.”

“Or so he says,” John Smith said in a rather hostile tone.

“Yes, and on investigation we found that he was telling the truth,” Eric said calmly.

“But _who_ is it then?” Devon asked, leaning forward in his chair. “Who killed Rose and Lily and who tried to kill Orlando?”

Eric looked from Devon to his Sergeant and then to Orlando; there was no way to soften the blow. “I'm afraid it was your wife, Isabel,” he said, facing Devon again. “It doesn't stop there either. The midwife who delivered you was found murdered as well and we have strong suspicions about the death of your grandmother too.”

Devon had paled at Eric's words and his hands clenched around the arm rests of his chair. “Why?” he whispered, looking at Isabel. “For God-sake tell me why!” he suddenly shouted at his wife. 

The officers behind Isabel stepped forward just in case things got out of hand. 

The girl most people had considered a little shallow and vague disappeared before their eyes. She turned her head and stared haughtily at Devon with a cold expression on her face. “Why do you think, Devon? There's only one really attractive quality about you, my love,” she hissed at him with contempt. “And that is your inheritance!”

Devon shrank back as he looked at his wife in bewilderment. “I don't understand. Why are you so concerned about my inheritance?”

“You're such a fool, aren't you?” she said viciously. “You don't notice anything; you don't pay attention to what's important. That bumbling fool of a nanny almost ruined it entirely!” 

She looked at the shocked faces around her and then she turned to Eric. “The moment they arrived,” she nodded with her head at Professor Rickman and Orlando. “I noticed Rose became jittery. Nobody listened to her babbling, but _I_ did.” The look on Isabel's face was one of triumph. “So before anyone else decided to pay attention to her words, I silenced her.”

“Isabel!” Devon cried out in horror. 

Ignoring her husband, Isabel continued. “It was easy enough to lure her down to the lake. All I did was asking her to tell me more about Devon as a child. I strangled her with her own shawl. I go to the gym every week... she was no match for me. I dragged her down the bank and into the lake, but the cold water revived her,” she said angrily. “I held her underwater until she stopped moving.”

Gasps of horror filled the library, even the hardened police officers seemed stricken by the coldness with which Isabel told what she had done. 

“Maybe we should take her to the station?” Dom suggested to Eric, but Eric shook his head, he still wasn't convinced Isabel had acted on her own. 

“Why Lily?” John Smith asked, barely managing to keep his emotions in check. Cook, sitting next to him, grabbed his hand, squeezing it gently in comfort. 

Isabel shrugged. “She knew too much. She could ruin everything if she talked to the police!” 

John buried his head in his hands after Isabel's callous words. 

“As for Orlando...” The look Isabel threw at Orlando was one of pure malice. “For a cripple he managed to hang on to the banister very well and unfortunately Professor Rickman grabbed him before he lost his grip. Too bad the police came in when they did, or I would've— ”

“That's enough!” Lord Edmund thundered. “Stop this immediately!”

Isabel smiled and turned to her father-in-law. “You don't even know what those women did... what your own mother did. And I haven't told you yet how I was able to get to the midwife. I pretended to be pregnant... She was only too happy to give me all the information I asked for.” She shook her head in annoyance. “If she had smothered the baby or drowned him in his bath water, we wouldn't even be here.”

Eric motioned with his hand and immediately the officers escorted Isabel out of the library. “I am sorry,” he inclined his head to Lord Edmund. “I've seldom encountered someone who was this triumphant about what they had done.”

Devon stood, his face pale, and put a shaking hand on John's shoulder. “I'm sorry,” he murmured. “I don't know what to say, but I'm so very sorry.”

John hardly seemed to notice; Doctor Hamilton went to him and led the distraught man out of the library. Then Devon turned to Eric, “Why, Inspector? I don't know what she meant by keeping my inheritance safe.”

Eric sighed and motioned for Devon to sit down again. “Let me tell you a story,” he said and sat down facing his audience. “It begins twenty-seven years ago on a cold January day. Lady Alice goes into labour, but due to a snow storm is unable to travel to hospital and the midwife knows there is no other choice but to deliver the baby at Lyndon Hall.”

He was interrupted by a knock on the door and one of the maids came in with pots of coffee and tea. With assistance from Geoffrey, everyone was quickly provided with something to drink.

“Sir?” Geoffrey still stood and looked from Lord Edmund to Eric. “Do you want us to stay?”

Eric motioned that it was up to Lord Edmund, who looked at his butler and nodded. “As the senior members of staff, I think you and Cook should know why your friends and colleagues were murdered, Geoffrey.”

“Thank you, Milord,” Geoffrey said and sat down again. 

Eric then went on with the story. “On that same day – which by the way was January 13th, 1985 – one of the maids went into labour as well, prematurely.”

At the mention of the date, Eric noticed that Orlando looked up, his face showing his confusion. 

“Lord Monkfish wasn't present at the time. Because of the heavy snowfall he was unable to return to Lyndon Hall that night for the birth of his son, Devon.” 

Dominic handed him a bunch of bagged papers and a folder, which Eric put in front of him on the table. 

“These are files that belonged to Eileen O'Hara, found in Isabel's room, and letters we found in Lady Millicent's desk. They both describe what happened that day.” He looked at Lord Edmund. “When we no longer need them as evidence, the letters will be returned to you, Milord.”

Lord Edmund nodded. “I understand, please continue, Inspector. For now I fail to see what my son's birth has to do with Isabel committing these murders.”

“It will soon become clear, Milord,” Eric assured him. “Now we have the midwife at Lyndon Hall, having to take care of two women in labour. She is assisted by the nanny and a couple of the maids.  
Lady Millicent is also present in the room where Lady Alice will be giving birth.” Eric opened the folder where the midwife had concisely written down the detail of events of that night and in particular the order in which they had happened.

“Lady Alice gave birth first and she was only given a very brief chance to hold her son as Lady Millicent ordered the nanny to take him to clean him up. Lady Alice was unable to take a good look at her newborn son.”

Eric glanced at Orlando, who was listening intently and then he continued, “After naming her son Devon and expressing hope that his hair would curl just like hers, Lady Alice could only wait for her son to be brought back to her. Apparently Lady Millicent made a remark about the curls Lady Alice talked about, saying that she hoped her grandson _wouldn't_ look like a Gypsy.”

At these words Orlando jerked up straight and Lord Edmund scowled at Eric, but he didn't comment on his words, Devon however, did.

“Gypsy?” he asked and at Eric's nod he continued, “Nanny was always talking about a 'Gypsy'...” Devon proved that he _had_ listened to her, even if his wife had thought otherwise. “I don't understand. What's the connection?”

“Orlando? Would you mind coming over here, please?” Eric asked the young man, who had been sitting rather quietly in his corner. 

Orlando slowly made his way around the table to where Eric was standing in front of the painted family portrait of Lord and Lady Monkfish and Devon.

Eric positioned Orlando beside the painting, which placed him standing next to Lady Alice. He knew what he was doing was unfair to Orlando, Devon, and Lord Edmund, but he felt it was the best way, before explaining anything further. 

“Why are you doing this, Eric?” Orlando asked, looking at Eric in confusion. 

“Please just humour me and face them,” Eric replied pointing at the others.

With a shrug Orlando did as Eric bade him. The room was quiet as everyone tried to decipher what Eric was showing them. Dominic had walked around the table to try and see what his boss had seen earlier that day.

“Holy shit!” he exclaimed, a little louder then he intended.

Lord Edmund shoved his chair backwards and stood. “What is going on here, what are you trying to prove?” he barked angrily at Eric. 

Before Eric could answer, Devon put a calming hand on his father's arm. “There's a reason for all this, Dad, let's hear him out.”

“Then you see it too?” Eric asked, and then he held up his hand. “Before you answer, I must emphasize that Orlando has no idea what I'm talking about.” 

The bemused look on Orlando's face told its own truth. 

This time it was Devon who stood and he walked around the large library table until he reached Orlando and Eric.

A police officer stepped forward, wanting to keep Devon back, but Eric motioned that it was alright. 

“There's no way around it,” Devon said, his hand tracing his mother's face. “There is a resemblance that no one can deny.”

“What?!” Orlando cried out, looking at Devon as if he'd gone mad. “What are you talking about?” He turned from Devon to Eric. 

There was a gasp behind them and they turned back to see Lord Edmund point at Orlando. “I said that first day that he looked familiar,” he murmured. “We even stood in front of the portrait a couple of days later...”

“Clever Bloom, but not good enough,” Professor Rickman said sarcastically.

Cook raised her head. “Bloom? The servant girl that gave birth the same day as Lady Alice was named Hannah Bloom. Nanny spoke of her often.” 

“Okay, enough!” Orlando snapped. “What the hell is going on here? Inspector I've told you more than once that my mother has nothing to do with what is going on here, what are you trying to prove?”

Oddly enough it wasn't Eric who answered him, but Devon. “Orlando, we'd better sit down and get the whole story. I have a feeling we're in for a shock...”

Orlando sighed and limped back to his chair. “Why not, I've got nothing better to do.” 

Despite the seriousness of the situation Devon grinned. “I like your attitude.” He sat back down next to his father who seemed lost in thought.

“This morning I saw Orlando in front of the portrait and suddenly I understood what happened. Finding the files of Eileen O'Hara and the letters of Lady Millicent only confirmed my suspicion.” Eric looked at Orlando who glared at him. “Everyone is aware of Lady Millicent disliking 'imperfection'?” he asked and a few heads nodded in agreement. 

“The shock was great when her grandson was born with a deformity. As minor as it was, it could never be permitted in _her_ grandson,” he continued. “Eileen O'Hara made it very clear that Lady Millicent ordered her and Rose Pendleton to make ' _it_ gone', meaning the baby. She even made some suggestions as to _how_ and Isabel mentioned them earlier, I shall not repeat them.”

Lord Edmund looked up with horror in his eyes. “Are you saying that...” He tried again. “What you are suggesting...” He shook his head. “It can't be true, but it would explain...”

Devon squeezed his father's arm, even though he himself had gone quite pale. 

“The story is unfortunately not finished yet.” Eric said and grimaced as he took a sip of his now cold coffee and Geoffrey stood to fill his cup again, as well as anyone else who wanted more. 

“Hannah Bloom had in the meantime given birth as well and also to a baby boy. At that moment there was a power outage and Eileen took the baby away before Hannah could hold him and look at him properly. She needed to check him where there was light and to her relief _he_ was healthy.”

Eric noticed that everyone was listening with bated breath now and he quickly continued.

“Truly afraid for baby Devon, fearing that if something wasn't done he would perhaps soon meet with a terrible accident, she went to Lady Millicent and came up with a very unusual solution. She was herself surprised that Lady Millicent agreed and then she handed Hannah's baby to Rose and told her to dress him in the clothes Lady Alice had provided and she herself returned with baby Devon to Hannah, who called him... Orlando.” 

The silence was telling. 

Shock and disbelief was written on Orlando's face. “It's not true,” he whispered. 

Devon looked at Orlando. “So that's what Isabel meant. She knew Orlando is the true heir to Lyndon Hall. _'The Gypsy has returned.'_ ”

Eric nodded. “It certainly looks that way. I know DNA tests will provide you with a definite answer.”

“Not necessarily,” Professor Rickman interjected.

At that moment there was a knock on the door and Sergeant Monaghan opened it. He stepped aside to let Karl Urban, the physiotherapist in.

“I'm here to see Orlando,” he declared a little startled at the sight of the police officers. “I can wait outside though.”

“That's not necessary, Karl. I'll go with you.” Orlando pushed himself up with his crutch.

“Please wait a moment longer, Orlando,” Eric asked him. “What were you going to say Professor,” he asked Professor Rickman. 

Professor Rickman straightened and pointed at his laptop. “After all our research of the past few weeks, Bloom knows as well as I, that he's not a Monkfish son. We have discovered something very important that is a trait of every first born Monkfish son for many centuries.” His eyes narrowed when he looked at Orlando and a triumphant expression crossed his face. 

Eric crossed his arms in front of his chest. “And what trait is that, Professor?” 

Professor Rickman sniffed disdainfully. “Every first born son of the Monkfish family has a birthmark, a very distinctive one.”

“Excuse me?” Karl Urban stepped forward. “Would this birthmark look like a fish?”

“It does,” Professor Rickman responded, surprise evident in his voice. 

Karl smiled. “In that case I can confirm that Orlando has that birthmark.” When Orlando turned a bewildered face at him, he continued, “I mentioned it the other day, but I think you were a little drowsy and didn't hear me.”

“Where is that mark then and why didn't Orlando tell me that himself?” Professor Rickman asked rather aggressively.

Karl snorted. “Unless he has eyes in his arse, he doesn't know he has it, because it's in the crease between his left thigh and buttock.”

This very effectively silenced Professor Rickman. 

Orlando shook his head. “I can't accept this. It's not true,” he denied. “It's too far-fetched and... I don't know why Isabel believed all this. It can't be—” 

“It's true,” Lord Edmund suddenly spoke up. “It explains why Alice was never the same after Devon's birth; it also explains why she was afraid of my mother. She must have realized... God, if only I had known, or if I had been here that night!” Lord Edmund buried his face in his hands.

Devon looked shattered. “So that's why Isabel wanted me to get a tattoo of a fish.”

Geoffrey, Cook and Karl Urban discreetly left the library and Eric motioned at the police officers and his Sergeant to leave. After some insistence Professor Rickman left as well and with a last look over his shoulder, Eric left the three men alone.

 

*

Orlando stood frozen, staring at the man who was the father he had never known. His life had been turned upside down and he didn't know what to believe. 

Devon seemed just as lost, and then he shook himself, smiled sadly at Orlando and then turned to his... father.

“I'm sorry, Dad... should I still call you that? I'm sorry for what grandmother did, for what Isabel did... I'm sorry,” he whispered and he sank down on the nearest chair, devastated by the revelations of that afternoon. 

Orlando, feeling very much an intruder, limped closer. “Sir?” he said, waiting for Lord Edmund to look up. “I'm sorry too. I had no idea... If only she'd asked... _I_ don't belong here Devon does. There was no need to... kill anyone.”

Lord Edmund reached out and took Orlando's hand in his own. “You _do_ look like Alice. The Inspector was right and I should have seen it.” Then Orlando's words seemed to sink in. “What do you mean 'you don't belong here'?”

“Hannah Bloom was my mother, the only one I have ever known. Even if it should be true... I don't want this...” he waved at his surroundings. “I have no intention of claiming something or whatever it is they do in a situation like this.”

Lord Edmund seemed to pull himself together and reached out to Devon as well. “Mother has ruined a lot of lives, but we can put a stop to that today,” he said determinedly.

“What do you mean?” Devon asked.

“Milord?” Orlando said in confusion. 

Lord Edmund motioned for Orlando to sit down on his other side. “I'm your father Orlando, don't call me Milord. I know you’re having a hard time accepting all this. We know you have the birthmark, but I feel we need to do a DNA test so there is no doubt for any of us. Do you agree?” When Orlando nodded, he continued, turning to Devon. “If Orlando _is_ my son, it doesn't mean that you are not, Devon. You will always be my son. The three of us will be a family!”

Devon smiled at his father and then at Orlando. “I've always wanted to have a brother.”

*

Four months later

“So when is your boyfriend visiting again?” Devon asked sitting on the windowsill in the library, looking at Orlando, who sat at the table behind his laptop.

Orlando looked up. “Boyfriend?” he squeaked. “You mean Inspector Bana?”

Devon rolled his eyes and slid from the windowsill and plopped down on the chair beside Orlando. “Yeah, your boyfriend,” he teased.

Orlando blushed. “I like him and I think he likes me... Karl said he does, but... Devon I don't know how... You know...” he finished lamely.

The teasing grin slid from Devon's face. “You mean you never... had a boy – or girlfriend?”

Orlando shook his head. “I took care of my mother the last years of her life, so there wasn't much time to go out and afterwards... I went to Uni to finish my study and then I had to find a job. I was lucky Professor Rickman was looking for someone just when I needed a job as a researcher.”

“That's hard, man. Tell me, how do you feel about the Inspector?” Devon asked seriously.

“Eric... His name is Eric,” Orlando murmured and his eyes got a faraway look. “I... uh. I would like to get to...”

Devon nodded wisely. “I understand and he's coming to see you today?”

“Yeah, he called and said he’d drop by a later, he had something to show me.”

“Okay,” Devon leaned closer, dropping his voice conspiratorially. “How about if I go see Cook and ask her to make a picnic basket for two and you take your Inspector out on the estate,” he wiggled his eyebrows. “There are more than enough secluded spots.”

“Isn't that... odd?” Orlando asked hesitantly. “I mean to be doing with another man?”

“Well that depends. Do you think it's odd or do you think it could be fun?” Devon asked him.

“I think it could be fun.” Orlando nodded and smiled at Devon, realizing what Devon was trying to do. “Thanks, Devon. Please ask cook if she has the time to make a picnic basket.”

Devon bowed. “Your wish is my command,” he grinned.

“Idiot,” Orlando said affectionately.

“We'll get you your man, Orlando, and Cook's delicious food will help a lot.” Devon winked and left the library.

Orlando watched him leave with a smile. Devon had so easily accepted him into his life and Orlando was truly grateful for that. He really had gained a brother.

When the truth had finally sunk in, they had both wanted to find out more about the mothers they had never known.

They had shared pictures of birthdays, Christmases and the occasional holiday.

Lord Edmund had joined them and shared stories of a time before they were both born and Orlando and Devon had listened eagerly.

When Orlando later had tentatively asked Devon if he wanted to find out who his real father was, Devon had shrugged. “No one can ever replace Edmund as my father... I'm sure you feel the same about Hannah?”

Orlando nodded, Hannah Bloom was the only mother he had ever known and she would always be his mother, regardless of what his corrected birth certificate said.

His relationship with his newly found father was a little less smooth than with Devon, but as Lord Edmund had assured Orlando, it had nothing to do with Orlando personally.

Lord Edmund was overwhelmed by guilt. Guilt for not recognizing Orlando when he looked so much like his deceased wife, but even more the guilt of not trying to find out what was bothering Lady Alice and why she was so afraid of Lady Millicent.

“I have failed her,” he had whispered brokenly, standing in front of the portrait in the library while Orlando was working there.

Orlando had joined him, putting a hand on his father's arm and then looked up into Lady Alice's eyes. “Father, I think she would be very happy to know that we are reunited and from what I have learned about her through your stories and Devon's, she wouldn't want you to dwell on the past.”

Lord Edmund had turned to Orlando and smiled. “That's indeed what Alice would've said, you truly are your mother's son.”

For Orlando that was a bittersweet remark, even if he was a Monkfish by birth now.

His father had seen the look in Orlando's eyes and knew he needed to say something. “Even though Alice is your biological mother and I recognize things in you that were familiar in her, Hannah will always be your real mother and she raised you to be the man you are today, Orlando. You can be very proud of her, but don't deny Alice her part, or resent me for seeing her in you.”

Orlando let out a deep breath. “I know you’re right and I am very proud of my mother and the fact that she raised me on her own, but coming to terms with all of this is taking me longer than I thought.”

Lord Edmund patted his son's shoulder. “You will get all the time you need, feelings can't be rushed.”

His words had made it easier for Orlando to accept that he needed more time and that no one was going to force him to feel something that wasn't there... yet.

 

*

 

There was a knock on the door and Geoffrey stepped inside. “Master Orlando?”With Orlando having turned out to be Lord Edmund's true son, Geoffrey had become a little more formal to Orlando's regret. “Inspector Bana is here to see you.”

“Thanks Geoffrey, show him in, please.” Orlando stood and grabbed his crutch to walk to the door. Intensive work-outs with Karl over the past few months had improved his leg a lot, strengthened the muscles, and made moving much easier.

“Eric, it's been a while.” Orlando hadn't seen the Inspector after the results of the DNA tests had been made public, which had been three weeks ago, but they had kept in touch by phone.

“Hey Orlando, it's good to see you again,” Eric smiled and closed the door. “How are you? You look great!”

Orlando felt himself blushing for the second time that morning. “Thank you. I'm fine, keeping busy.” He gestured at his laptop and the piles of books beside it. “After seeing the family tree and the Monkfish Shield and Crest, a couple of my... father's friends have asked me to research their family trees and make them one too.”

“How does Professor Rickman feel about that?” Eric asked.

Despite his leg feeling much better, standing for a longer period of time was still difficult and Orlando motioned for Eric to sit and sat down himself as well. “He’s back at University and sends progress reports. I can work from here and keep him updated on my progress. We only have to meet when we have to put everything together. It works out for both of us.”

“I'm glad to hear it. He didn't strike me as a very compassionate man, not even when he knew what had happened.” Eric declared, pulling an envelope from his inside jacket pocket.

Orlando grinned. “He isn't. He doesn't know what the word means. But he did save my life on the stairs. Or at least saved me from getting badly injured, and I'm still grateful for that.”

“So am I,” Eric agreed. “I have your new birth certificate for you.” He pushed the envelope across the table in Orlando's direction. Quickly opening it, Orlando took the single sheet out of the envelope and read the document.

“Father: Edmund James Monkfish, Mother:... Alice Charlotte Monkfish-” Orlando's hands shook and he dropped the document on the table. “I know it's correct this way, but... it feels like a betrayal to my mum.” He sniffed and cleared his throat, emotions threatening to overwhelm him.

Eric leaned toward Orlando, holding his hand in compassion. “Do you want to go for a walk? Maybe a bit of fresh air...”

Orlando nodded. “I have a better idea... Actually it was Devon's idea.” Orlando felt it only fair to give Devon the credit he deserved. “He's asked Cook to make a picnic basket for me, would you... like to go on a picnic with me?” Halfway through his question Orlando started to lose confidence and was certain Eric would decline and laugh at him.

“Sounds like an excellent idea,” Eric smiled. “I'd love to go on a picnic with you.”

“Great!” Orlando said enthusiastically, and then his face sobered. “As long as we don't go near the bridge.”

His nightmares of finding Rose Pendleton there hadn't disappeared. Even if the lake looked different now with the ice having melted months ago.

 

*

 

Geoffrey handed Eric the picnic basket with a broad smile. “Have a good time, gentlemen,” he said

Side by side they walked along the path around the lake, Eric carrying the picnic basket and Orlando holding the blanket in his free hand. They ventured nowhere near the bridge.

“I found out, by the way, how Lady Millicent managed to have your place of birth left off your birth certificate.” Eric said after they had walked in silence for a while. “There's no limit to what that woman did.”

“That bad?” Orlando asked and when Eric nodded, he sighed. “Tell me?”

“After some questioning I was put in touch with someone who had been working at the Registry Office twenty-seven years ago as well. He was only twenty-two at the time. His father was employed at Lyndon Hall; I think he was one of the gardeners. Lady Millicent phoned him at the Registry Office and told him that when Hannah Bloom came to register her baby, there was to be no connection to Lyndon Hall on any of the papers.”

Eric took off his jacket, and continued. “When Hannah came, the young man had her sign a blank form, half hidden under the filled in form and when she had left, assured that the registration was done, he did the registration on the signed form and shredded the other one, leaving out Lyndon Hall. Apparently Lady Millicent had told him his father's job was at stake if he didn't do what she told him to.”

Orlando rolled his eyes. “She really was a piece of work, wasn't she?”

Eric reached out and grabbed Orlando's arm, bringing him to a halt. “She wanted you dead! She didn't care one bit about you, an innocent baby, only because you weren't 'perfect' in her eyes!” Anger radiated off Eric in waves. Lady Millicent had done everything in her power to erase any connection between Hannah and Orlando Bloom and Lyndon Hall.

Orlando reached out and put his hand on Eric's chest, feeling his heart beating furiously. “Why are you so angry?” he asked. “I'm not. My anger is directed at Isabel. Eileen O'Hara saved my life. I will be forever grateful to her, it's very sad that I will never have the opportunity to thank her. Isabel had no right, no justification to kill them!”

“I'm angry because I care. I knew this was all connected to you, but I had no idea how much evil was behind it all.” Eric admitted.

“Cold as ice, both of them, Lady Millicent and Isabel,” Orlando agreed and shivered.  
“Not that I really care much, but was her death a natural one?”

Eric shook his head. “Doctor Hamilton was right. She had been given an overdose of her medication. We found out that Isabel was administering it to her on a regular basis, so there was no suspicion at all. Lady Millicent wouldn't have known...”

“Those two...” Orlando didn't finish his sentence, but Eric understood him anyway.

“There's something else I must tell you,” Eric looked sideways at Orlando. “I found out that Lady Millicent sent you and your mother away from Lyndon Hall under the guise of your mum being an 'unmarried' mother. Hannah was ordered to pack her bags and leave only a couple of days after you were born.”

Orlando gasped at that news. “That woman was a monster! How could she do that to my mum?” he hugged himself, wishing he could go back in time and comfort his mother.

Eric's arm went around him and he pulled Orlando close. “She was evil, there's just no other word for it.”

Orlando nodded, he was quiet for a while and a little frown had appeared between his eyebrows.

With a finger, Eric touched the frown. “What are you thinking of that makes this appear?” he asked.

“Was it really a crime?” Orlando looked up at Eric and at the man's confused look he clarified, “The switching of the babies, I mean. Would you have arrested Eileen O'Hara? I'm wondering about that, because without her I probably wouldn't have been here.”

Understanding, Eric shook his head. “No, I wouldn't have done anything of the sort. I would've asked her for an explanation as to why she did it, but there was enough evidence that would have backed up her story. In this case, the switching of you and Devon wasn't done for personal gain, but to save an innocent baby from... Well who knows what would have happened to you if she hadn't done that.”

“I would've been drowned or smothered,” Orlando said sombrely.

Eric tightened his arms around Orlando. “They can't hurt you anymore, now let's forget them and find a nice spot to open this picnic basket. It weighs enough that it's probably filled with food to feed a dozen people.”

Orlando nodded and grinned, pointing at a couple of trees, liking the way Eric's arm felt around him.

 

Their picnic was a true feast of delicacies, Cook had outdone herself and when Orlando offered a nice ripe strawberry to Eric, Eric grabbed his wrist and pulled Orlando closer, the strawberry held between his fingers. Eric bit the tip off the berry, licking at the juices that dripped down Orlando's hand.

Orlando gasped at the sensual feeling of Eric's tongue removing the sticky juices and daringly he took another strawberry and put it between his teeth.

Smouldering dark eyes looked into Orlando's own. He was pulled forward and within seconds half the strawberry disappeared in Eric's mouth and Orlando quickly swallowed the other half because Eric's mouth returned and closed over his and Orlando was kissed passionately.

Feeling courageous, Orlando unbuttoned Eric's shirt, his fingers stroking the strong muscled chest.

Eric, from the beginning fascinated by Orlando's long, dark curls, which gave him his by now famous 'Gypsy' look, pulled the elastic band from Orlando's hair, letting the curls fall down around his shoulders.

They lay down on the blanket and with his head on Eric's partially bare chest, and Eric's arms wrapped around him, Orlando knew that this was what had been missing in his life.

“I love you, Eric,” he murmured and silently thanked Eileen O'Hara, if it hadn't been for her, he most likely would never have lived to experience this moment.

He shivered and Eric's arms tightened around him. “I love you too, Orlando, but you know it's time to let go of the past.”

Eric was right, the past had brought nothing but grief; it was time to concentrate on his future.

Orlando pulled out of Eric's arms and picked up the bottle of champagne that had been in the basket as well, it wasn't empty yet, and he filled their glasses.

“Let's drink to the future, our future,” he said, handing Eric his glass and they raised their glasses.

“The 'Gypsy' has well and truly returned,” Eric smiled.

Orlando nodded happily. “The 'Gypsy' is finally home.”

The End


End file.
